New Turn Celebrations!

[justify]The entire day has been sent preparing the Gather Square for celebrations, with torches set up and tables decked out as the day progresses with bounties of food. The kitchen fires have been stoked, and massive amounts of animals have been roasting. The smells swirling around on the breezes are mouth watering and many a hand has found itself marked with the back of a spoon when trying to filch food.

As the afternoon falls towards evening, and the summer sun is slowly inching towards the horizon, the lamps have been lit, glows have been unveiled, and the Harpers within the Weyr have found themselves rotating as they all play their tunes. People are split between eating, dancing, drinking. Gossip runs rampet and dragons - both on the Gather Square, at their home huts, and anywhere else they can squish themselves light the area up with glowing eyes.

Let the celebrations begin!

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You can post on this thread, or start your own threads within the square. Go wild! All associated Threads will be within the time frame of Mid Afternoon on the last day of 230 and midday on the first day of 231. Just make sure you label it as a NYE Gather thread!![/justify]

Gather! Glorious Gather! The food, the music, the glows... and the beautiful women in their beautiful, low-cut summer dresses!

Kerrin stood at the treshold of Gather Square, hands on his hips and a smirk on his lips as he surveyed the festivities with the same righteous air of a king watching over newly conquered lands. Now here was an event he'd been waiting all day - nay, all year for, with the same fist-clenching, heart-racing excitement as even the youngest of the weyrbrats. And though he'd teased the little ones earlier in the day for being so abuzz with anticipation that they had been unable to concentrate on their chores, the truth was he as just as bad off as they were, and he had all but raced through each of his tasks so that the tables would be set and the lamps lit with time to spare for him to make a mad dash back to his hut for a bath. Not to mention plenty of time to get dressed, and after that he'd needed yet more time to wrestle his curls into something presentable despite the humid summer weather's insistence that they be little more than a frizzy mop atop his head. But nevermind that! He'd made it, if a little late, and his hard work had paid off: he was by far the best dressed gentlemen present, if he did say so himself. The lavender summer tunic and the tall rider's boots had been a good decision, after all.

Already the square was already bustling and alive with twittering voices and milling bodies that bounced from food to wine to dance. The boy's chest puffed as he inhaled deeply, taking in with gusto the heady mingled scents of roasted meats, sweet bubbly pies, and the lingering traces of the fragrant oils that some of the more clever and dainty girls had rubbed into their hair in preparation for an evening of flirting and romance. A slightly different sort of grin lit on Kerrin's face as amber eyes followed the latest sweet-smelling pair to cross his path, and he wondered which of Katila's many eligible bachelors the two would set their sights on that evening. It wouldn't be him, he knew; they were too old for that... in fact, one was a rider, if he remembered correctly. But nevertheless, even just seeing even the most stoic and hardworking of the women decked out in their very finest, dancing and drinking and laughing with the men in the square, filled him with a sense of joyful satisfaction. When else did the residents of Katila have such an occasion to enjoy themselves like this? Every day at the weyr was just work-work-work, for riders and weyrfolk alike. Every man, woman, and child of every station was expected to pitch in, be it carrying water and lidding glowbaskets for the smallest children or chopping fireword and constructing homes for the most able-bodied men. But tonight? Tonight was different.

Tonight was Gather!

Finally the boy broke from his regal stance, rubbing his hands together eagerly as he plotted his first move. This would surely be the most memorable party of the year, and when he considered that, Kerrin began to think it would be a shame if he didn't start it off with a bang. So why not a bit of wine? He was nearly 18 turns after all, an adult! Too old to be chained down any longer by his overly-cautious father's preaching on the evils of drink to growing bodies. Which was why he strode confidently over to the table lined with waiting wineglasses, picking up a glass of jewel-toned red - it certainly was a beautiful drink. It looked fruity and sweet. So excited was he to finally have a taste of this vice that the adults around him seemed to enjoy so much, in fact, that he didn't even bother to smell it before he'd lifted the glass to his lips... which is exactly why it hit him like an overstuffed sack of firestone when the unexpectedly sour, bitter liquid finally hit his tongue. Young as he was, Kerrin had far too much pride and dignity to spit this foul rotten grape water out all over the table - fortunate for the glasses upon glasses of unclaimed wine that would have suffered from it. He did, however, choke, and was quite dismayed to find that his subsequent coughing fit only allowed the firey taste of alcohol to spread from his tongue to the back of his throat. "Shards! People drink this?!"

I’ll be sleeping. Do not drink too much. The dragon’s words fell on mostly deaf ears. Ph’yn did not necessarily not hear the dragon. He understood Deshenoreth’s concerns when it came to drinking and how much Ph’yn tended to drink when he did. There was nothing worse than being at a Gather, watching happy people dance and feeling like all of it was taken from you. He needed the drink to numb the pain he still felt of the losses in his life. One would think he had lost his dragon at times because during events like this, Ph’yn tended to be about as cheerful as dirt. He would do what he always did.  Being a Bronzerider meant he was expected to attend, well dressed and act with decorum. He would do his best to be all three of those things not because it was what the other people expected but because his dragon asked it of him. The only being in the world that mattered to him now was the Bronze beast who was part of his soul.

So after what seemed like weeks of enduring the happy and cheery nature of all the people of Katila throughout the day he finally took the time to get ready himself. He combed his graying blonde curls with a wet  comb, made sure the bath he took earlier in the day still kept the smell of sweat off of him. His hands were clean, fingernails trimmed. He was the picture of a perfect dragonrider, wearing a well fitted chestnut brown shirt, khaki pants and his nicer pair of boots. He was prepared to face the party at least for a couple of candlemarks. What would a Katilan Gather be without paying his respects to Tsuen as well.

Before heading that way though, there was one place to visit first. So far the ale here was pretty rough so he was planning on starting with a nice red wine when he watched a youth almost choke down his wine. He almost laughed but held back. He hoped there was never a time he looked that dumb trying alcohol. Then again he knew there was a good chance he did. Shaking his head at the young man’s reaction he said, “Red is dryer than white but some people say wine is an acquired taste. In any case, I suggest starting with a white wine since its sweeter.Wine should not be thrown back like water or juice. You should sip it a little at a time, letting the flavor hit the roof of your mouth and breathe in the flavor. I prefer ale myself but seeing as you cannot even handle red wine yet, I don’t suggest trying the ale, especially not Katilan ale.”

Ph’yn took a glass of red wine and did as he had described. He sipped the wine, letting it rest in his mouth as he breathed in through his nose and then finally swallowed. Deep flavored, a little bitter but not bad. They must have someone working with the vintners who actually knew what they were doing. Maybe that meant there would be some improvement on the ales. "I'm Ph'yn rider of Bronze Deshenoreth. I don't believe we've met previously." He said as he took another sip of wine. He really had no recollection for some people. If they had no direct effect on his life he tended to forget people.

Kerrin started a little at the unexpected intrusion, immediately whirling around around to face the bronzerider whose even voice cut easily through the din of conversation surrounding them. He immediately recognized, even through wide, still watering eyes (shards! would the burning never stop?!), that the man who stood before him as someone of relative importance. It wasn't as though the usually scowling old dragonman had ever spoken to him personally, at least never in more than passing. Actually, Kerrin could hazard a guess from his limited observation of the rider and his solitary habits that Ph'yn rarely spoke to anyone at all in anything more than passing. But be they friendly or not, Katila had so few bronzeriders that someone like him - weyr-born son of a brownrider and hoping to Impress someday - would be fool not to at least know the names of every one of them. It occurred to the gasping, coughing youth that Ph'yn deserved some sort of greeting, or at least a sign of some kind that Kerrin recognized him and knew his station at the weyr, but alas the foulness of the wine he had so naively tossed right into his gullet had silenced this usually notorious chatterbox.

Which was why he could only answer Ph'yn with a series of bewildered blinks from behind the sleeve with which he attempted to quiet the worst of his choking fit, as the obviously very experienced-in-the-ways-of-alcohol rider delivered his speech on all of the many ways in which Kerrin had gone astray in his first sampling of the drink that the older man now seemed to savor with long, slow sips. Having now caught his breath by the time the rider had drawn his second sip, Kerrin attempted to process the information. White wine better? And what was that about ale? The boy recognized it as important that this usually silent man was speaking to him, even though he wasn't exactly sure why it was happening after all this time. Was alcohol so important to Ph'yn that he was willing to step outside his usual, fiercely solitary ways in order to educate the obviously uninformed on its merits? Or was he just teasing, the way so many of the older riders had recently taken to doing now that the once-infamous weyrbrat had finally come of age?

Before Kerrin could even open his mouth to ask, the bronzerider gave him his answer - in the form of an introduction as if the two of them had never met. At this, amber eyes narrowed, the boy's lips twisted into a wry smile. Boy, his father wasn't kidding when he'd said bronzeriders were in a class all their own! Or was that level of self-absorption unique to paranoid loners like Ph'yn? Feeling his incredulity rise the more he thought about it, Kerrin wisely bit his tongue, holding back the worst of the choice remarks that sprang to mind as he stared in disbelief at the distinguished-looking, yet obviously quite clueless, rider. Keep it to yourself, Kerrin, the stewing youth reminded himself, his grip on the wineglass tightening with the force of his effort to keep himself quiet in the face of this man who had, for all intents and purposes, done nothing more wrong than ask a simple question. But boy, was it difficult. He's on a Bronze, Kerrin. No reason for him to remember the names of all the brats in this weyr.

But shard it! He wasn't all of the other brats in this weyr! He was different!

"I should hope we have," the boy finally deadpanned with a rise of one brow, and for all of his best efforts to behave himself the tone was more than just a little snide. He could have kicked himself once the words had tumbled from his lips, but it was too late now. May as well finish the thought. "I've only lived here for 10 years."

As if to compensate for what he knew very well to be an impertinent remark, Kerrin gave a quick, deferential bow of greeting to the bronzerider as he very politely introduced himself. "Kerrin, son of B'ker. He's a brownrider," he added the last bit hastily, realizing belatedly that if Ph'yn really did have such a selective memory then he was unlikely to recall his father's name or station either.

[justify]"Hii!"

Throwing herself into the conversation without any regard as to what the two may think, Indivara came to a screeching halt as she wrapped her arms around Ph'yn's waist and used him as her breaks. Grinning, and somewhat puffing, the girl peered up at the bronze rider from under the loose hair that had managed to escape from the careful work her birth mother had done. Remarkably well dressed for a child that usually ran around in rags and hand-me-downs, Indivara was currently wearing a pretty blue dress that emphasised the colour of her eyes and yet, didn't at all suit the child who was more at home in the trees. It fell to her knees with a white petticoat, and both portions of the outfit already claimed grass stains and something that looked suspiciously like tree wax on the hem. Indivara's long, brown hair had been braided, but was rapidly coming free in strands as her wild nature refused to be tamed, even for a single evening.

Young and absent minded as she currently was, however, it didn't take Indivara very long to realise she had interrupted something of note, if the tension around Kerrin were anything to go by. Frowning slightly, the young girl released Ph'yn from her double handed grip and stepped away slightly, glancing up at him for a moment before her blue gaze flicked back up to Kerrin. She tilted her head, curious. The girl's frown deepened as Kerrin introduced himself with an air of unhappiness, and confused, Indivara turned her gaze upon Ph'yn with a puzzled expression.

"You don't know Kerrin?" Baffled, the child turned to make sure the older boy was, indeed, the weyrbrat she knew. Blue eyes serious, Indivara looked Kerrin up and down slowly. When she was sure that it was, indeed, the Northern born boy she conned stories out of. Blinking, Indivara turned that same focused gaze upon the tall 'rider, and narrowed her eyes at him. Studying the man now, her expression one of suspicion, Indivara made sure that Ph'yn was, indeed, the man she knew. When she was, once more, satisfied that the person before her was who they were meant to be, she tilted her  head up and grinned.

"You remember me, though, right?" Her grin was wide, cheeky and full of a youthful innocence that could be debated upon, as far as Indivara's claim upon it went. In any case, it didn't even cross the young girl's mind that Ph'yn might not remember who she was or to which adult she belonged, any more than she doubted Kerrin's knowledge of who she was. Such inability to think such things most likely stemmed from Indivara's own ability to remember people once met, and so, unable to forget who someone was, made it quite impossible for the child to comprehend that others may not be so well versed in names and faces as she was herself. Her high opinion of the two, and her eavesdropping - a habit that kept her up to date on gossip - meant she knew exactly who the two men were, and what they spent a lot of their time doing (or were meant to be doing) even if they didn't realise it themselves.

Speaking of rumours... "Have you chosen a name yet?" The question burst out of the girls' lips with wild abandon and a great deal of curiosity. Her eyes were huge and bright as she peered up at Ph'yn with all the attention any seven year old could possess when offered something particularly sweet and sugary.

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I took artistic license with your characters xD Ph'yn likes kids, ergo, Indivara feels he loves her, adores her and would do anything for her. Kerrin is king of the brats, there for, Indivara is his queen. LOL. She thinks rather highly of herself haha. Their opinions on her are entirely up to you, of course. I just enjoyed the narrow minded approach of the seven year old =D w00p![/justify]

Lymsleia wandered. She knew the sights and scents and smells. A Gather. And Dragons. Dragons. Things of legend and myth.. they were alive. As  the dark skinned young woman meandered through the lighted area. It was evening and for a long while she was more disoriented than ever. She couldn't recognize the people, any of the places... but the smells of food were music to her stomach.

She wore a simple, skirt of deep harper blue, and a top of  a similar shade with the collar embroidered- a borrowed outfit is seems as she raised the hem of the skirt to keep it from getting too dirted. The scent of food wafted and Lymsleia followed her feet.

The sound of dragons ,rumbling and people talking lulled her a moment. She stood before the banquet tables-- food and pots and stalls- people trying to make a mark anyway they could. She paused and tried to find someone ,anyone.. "Excuse me, I don't mean to be a bother, but which gather is this?" she gestured skyward. "My... star reading a bit hazy, but... those don't seem to be in the.. right place... " Lymsleia tried to smile, as she stared hard at the stars. Nope the Dawn Sisters were in the /wrong/ place. 

Echlerov was enjoying the music, dressed in his dark blue gather outfit. It was simple compared to some, just a nice pair of pants, and embroidered tunic, but it was fancy enough to make him not feel out of place. 
He wasn't really one for fancyness, but gathers were special occasions. He was off to the side, a little out of the way, but not far enough away that he couldn't hear people's conversations.

He heard a rather odd comment that someone, a female, had made, and that caused Echlerov to glance over to her. She must be a newcomer, though he wasn't sure why she was asking where she was. Hadn't someone explained things to her?  If they hadn't, well, that would be a problem, but perhaps it was just that she was in shock. It was hard to accept that there was a secret weyr of dragons hidden down in the south, and he remembered waking up a few times incredibly confused to where he was.

"That's probably because we're in the south," he answered, moving closer to Lymsleia. She was pretty, with striking eyes, though not really to Echlerov's taste. Still, he could answer her questions, and being from the north himself, would have a perspective closer to hers.

Lymsleia covered her mouth. "I think phrased that wrong... I mean that stars are different.. when viewed from the south. Different, but still very beautiful." She settled her mis-matched gaze on him. The light of the evening had turned her grey  eye an almost dark-black shade of blue.

She starred up wards. "To be honest, I'd not really expected them to be so different. I mean.. I could tell we weren't home.." she gestures to the landscape. "I wonder if the hall is freaking out yet.. Ahh.." she turned to him. "Lymsleia, Journeywoman Healer." she said in a polite and pleasant tone. She extended a peite hand, which shook a little bit, thought that wasn't unusual. She was a strange in a strange place. Learning that creatures which once existe d and has only recently- thought it seemed a life time to her who'd never heard or see one- until recently, and even then only at something of a distance.

"Indi!" Kerrin called to the girl who had (literally) thrown herself bodily into their conversation, his tension melting away in an instant as he smiled warmly in greeting to her despite his knowledge of the child's distaste for the nickname by which he'd just addressed her. It went without saying that her objections on that front only encouraged him - as fellow weyrbrats of the worst degree, there was naturally an unspoken understanding that they would give each other a hard time whenever possible. But even with his frequent teasing of the rambunctious youngster, he felt an undeniable fondness for the little brat who reminded him so much of himself at that age. Ah, to be so young and free again!

Actually, nevermind. He was glad he was older and knew better than to make a terrible embarrassment of himself at a Gather (the wine-tasting fiasco of moments before notwithstanding), because Faranth's golden hide was that a grass stain on the girl's gorgeous frock? "By the Egg, girl, what have you done to that beautiful dress?" Kerrin cried in dismay, immediately kneeling to inspect the damage, taking a corner of the lovely blue fabric in his free hand and frowning at what he saw. Tree sap! Grass and dirt was one thing, it could be removed with plenty of hearty scrubbing, but sap too? That was just... well, it was a shame.

Sighing in resignation, Kerrin picked a stray bit of twig from the petticoat and tossed it aside, before clearing away the worst of the dirt smudges with a quick series of pats to its voluminous ruffles. It was the most he could do for the clearly ruined garment. And cared to do, anyway, because he hadn't made the dress and he wasn't wearing it either, so it wasn't really his concern. He was aware, vaguely, of the child's barrage of questions to the dragonrider as Kerrin stood once more, the young man he smirked as it dawned on him that she had, in her own childish way, been championing him against Ph'yn's very inconsiderate absent-mindedness. "I wouldn't worry too much about that, little one. I'm sure he knows you. And he probably just didn't recognize me, since I've gotten so manly and handsome lately." At that the boy struck a pose for the girl's benefit, chin held between thumb and forefinger as he gazed off into the distance and pursed his lips in what he imagined to be a very dashing manner.

In doing so, however, the easily-distracted youth caught sight of something unusual from the corner of his eye - an unfamiliar woman, Stolen no doubt - dark-skinned, petite, and very beautiful. Very beautiful indeed! And while it might have been her slight stature that gave her such a youthful appearance, he guessed that she wasn't much older than himself. He would have to catch up with her sometime over the course of the evening, he decided, and give her a proper welcome. The adults around Katila could be so stuffy sometimes... with the exception of the greenriders, of course. They were always interesting.

Though by the looks of it, it seemed as if that winemaker guy had already staked some sort of claim on the new arrival... perhaps--

Just as his imagination was beginning to trail off in the direction of some juicy new gossip, Kerrin's thoughts were put to a screeching halt by Indivara's breathless question to the unsuspecting Ph'yn. Whoah, hold on there!

"Whoah, hold on," Kerrin repeated his mental voice, amber eyes widening and alight with interest as his full and undivided attention turned back to the bronzerider and the little girl who clung to him. A grin crossed his lips as his mind jumped to the most obvious assumption. "A name for what now? With whom?" The youth finished this interrogation with a slow sip of the wine he still held, an amused and sparkling gaze trained unwaveringly on the older man all the while - and he was certain the action would have added a nice dramatic effect, too, had he not momentarily forgotten the bitterness of the drink that soon made his brows knit together as he tried valiantly to ignore it.

Echlerov chuckled, and then grinned at her. "Aren't they though?" That was all that really needed to be said, and he shook her hand gently. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lymsleia. I'm Echlerov, a journeyman Vinter. Are you enjoying it here at the weyr so far?" He was making assumptions, mostly that she was new to the weyr, but since he was fairly sure he hadn't seen her before, it was a fair assumption.

"Would you like a glass of wine? Or perhaps fruit juice?"

These were the moments that he really enjoyed, being a proper host, and taking care of what someone else needed. It wasn't just because she was a woman, nor was he laying any sort of claim, despite what it might look like, but just because he enjoyed taking care of people. All people. Especially during a gather. If people weren't having fun, there was something wrong, and he had no objections to trying to cheer them up.

She nodded though she looked around as she did so taking it all in. Though after she focuses on the journeyman vinter. She touched her lips a moment. "I am enjoying at least... some of it Echlerov...." she spoke his name with a strangely musical tone. The blue she wore was only a few shades off from Harper-blue, and for a moment she seemed perhaps older than her 19 turns seem. "Its.. different. I mean its a Weyr a live and.. breathing.. with.. DRAGONS." she says in such a childish tone- with a wild grin. She shrinks back after speaking a little bit louder than normal, as if perhaps she may be rebuked for speaking in such a manner.

She adjusted her dark hair, and her grey eye flickered a moment, changing from grey to blue back to grey in the light. "I'd love some wine, though maybe I'd better taste the fruit juice first.." Lymsleia  bit her lip. "Have you experiement with native fruits here? I mean you might be able to make some very unique wine flavors with just the native fruits.

She look at the sky again. "So dragons are still alive." Spoking in almost a reverent whisper, the young Journeywoman healer  glanced to the vinter. "How long have you been here?"

"I know what you mean. I half expect some mornings to wake back up and find out that this whole thing has just been one really wacky dream." It wasn't as often as it had been when he first arrived, but there were still days that it happened. "The work reminds me that it's not though." He chuckled. That was the truth, if he really was dreaming up a weyr, why in the world would he be forcing himself to do all the different types of work that had to get done.

"Oh, yeah," he answered, in responce to her question about the native fruits. "I started with those, since Katila doesn't exactly have a vineyard yet. I've got a promising strain of wild grapes, and the redfruit wine came out better than I expected it to. None of them compare to Benden wine yet, but now that I've got seedlings of the Benden grapes, I expect that they will. We've got really good soil for growing." He grinned sheepishly. He hadn't meant to go off on a tangent like that. "Fruit juice it is."

He stepped away for a moment, long enough to retrieve two cups of fruit juice from the table where they were sitting, and then returned. "Here you are." He held out one of the cups for her to take. "I've been here for about three years now. How long for you?"

For a long moment, Lymsleia clutched the cup before hesistantly taking a sip. She mulled over the flavor and taste of the juice. "I think you'll make a wine that's FAR better than Benden." She says proudly. "I mean its almost guaranteed. The sun is good, the soil is good, enough water and love and care and we should be able to grow anything." She smiles, warmly as she runs a hand across the back of her neck.

Lymsleia took a moment to quickly braid her hair and raise it off the back of her neck, though a combination of braids and a  piece of a leather strip. "So we don't have a true vineyard, well you be able to build one, Escherlov." She closed her eyes a moment, running her fingers over the  lids. "I've only been here a few days. hours... I don't know. It was dark evening when it happened. The glows had been lit, and I was studying." she muses. "Or maybe I'd actually be reading for the pleasure or composing something." She shook her head. "But when I woke up... my head was pounding. I think they used something, I'd been always told not to use to knock someone out- or use it sparingly. I felt like I'd been kicked by a runner." she rubbed her temple.

"Anyway, I am going to say it could be  a few days to seven day or two. The days sort of blended together." Her eyes wandered towards him. "Three years huh? Seems like a lifetime.  What will I be doing in three years?" She took another sip of her juice, slowly and  then glanced back ."What about you, Eschelov? Where do you see yourself three years from now?"

((sorry for the wait))

He was about to respond to Kerrin’s obvious dismay at Ph’yn’s lack of knowledge when it came to remembering people as the young girl arrived and attached herself to him. In a rare moment, he looked down at the girl and smiled. Hugging the girl back he said, “Of course I remember you Indivara.” Ph’yn never much cared for being put on the spot but it seemed the two of them were going to make him think about Kerrin for a moment or two. Turning the conversation to Indivara he said, “Don’t go touching all the pastries tonight either.”  He noticed even on special occasions the girl seemed to attract dirt. Kerrin was trying to clean the girl up but he doubted it would do much good.

Looking back at Kerrin he grew more serious, “I apologize, Kerrin. Indeed, I had forgotten how much you’ve grown. I certainly did not expect you to be old enough to drink wine yet.”  Which should exonerate him a little although he was sure the haughty youth would turn things around.  The thought triggered something of a sadness in him. How old would his children have been? Would they be sampling wine and dancing? His face had once more taken on that mask of stone. He would do well to have some ale in him and soon.

Seeing as both youngsters were occupied, Ph’yn grabbed another glass of wine. He saw Kerrin change his attention, young men were generally distracted by one thing. Young women. So Ph’yn didn’t have to follow his gaze to know what the young man was looking at. The Bronzerider could not blame him as he was a bit of a womanizer in his youth. Much good it did him, he thought dryly. Taking a sip of his wine he nearly choked at the young girl’s question, spluttering some out in front of him.

“What?!” Unlike most of the Weyr, Ph’yn did not follow gossip.At least he wasn’t the only one as Kerrin seemed about as knowledgeable as he was on the subject.  “Indi, what are you talking about?”  Maybe they thought he had a pet? That would make some semblance of sense at least. No one else had mentioned anything to him about naming anything so maybe it was something silly made up by the rumor mill.

Gather. Summer. Who's idea was it to hold a gather in the middle of summer?! Volfetti was scowling as she stood at the edge of the Gather Square. She was dressed in a loose, lightweight white tunic, a tan leather belt resting above her increasingly swollen belly. She was now in her, what was it now, sixth month? Perhaps seventh or even eighth. To be honest she wasn't keen on counting the months since that day of Green flights when her lust had gotten the better of her. The passing thought of that day caused her scowl to darken further as she stared down at her belly. It seemed that each day it was growing inch by inch. Then again, her entire body was doing that as she ate her way through the process.

Taking a few steps forward she gasped lightly, feeling her swollen feet aching with even the slightest pressure or movement. Spying the table of drinks she took a deep breath and continued to walk over to them, trying her hardest to ignore the painful steps. As she reached the table she looked around, instinctively reaching for the wines to try and take the edge off the melting heat of the summer and all the aches that riddled her body. The glass had barely touched her lip when a shout and thud caught her attention. Looking over she saw Indivara gazing up to Ph'yn, the two sorting themselves out after she had used him as a breaking system. An eyebrow arched upwards, threatening to leave her face and become one with her sun-bleached hair. Without realising it she let herself listen in on the conversation, glad to have something to think about other than everything that was making her life hell.

The wine glass slowly lowered to the table as she giggled to herself when both Indivara and Kerrin accused Ph'yn of having a large forgetful streak in their own manners. She still clutched it awfully tightly however, as if holding it was allowing the alcohol to seep through into her skin. Absentmindedly she reached up with her free hand and tugged at the wide-brimmed hat that was barely keeping the sun out of her eyes now that it was sinking towards the horizon. The lull of music and chatter was finally beginning to ease her mind as she leant back against the table. Indivara, again, would prove to distract her yet again. Have you chosen a name yet?

Volfetti dropped the wine glass which broke into a few pieces on the compacted dirt, the ruby red alcohol drenching the ground like blood. Her eyes were wide and staring blatantly at the three nearby, she knew full well about the rumours that flitted amongst the weyrfolk. That it had reached one so young as Indivara deeply surprised Volfetti, unsettled her. With a small, quick shake of her head she looked down at the broken glass, nudging the base with the edge of her sandal.

"And how am I meant to clean this up?" She sighed to herself softly, preparing herself for what felt like a monumental task: bending over.

He grinned. "I hope so." He nodded as she explained how she had come here, it was much like his own story, besides the fact that he had just been taken from where he was sleeping, no drugs necessary. He had to wonder how many of the others had stories like that, and whether they'd be willing to let him write them down. It could be interesting, to have a record of how each of the candidates had come to be at the weyr, but that would be for later. Once there was actually a clutch to have candidates stand for. It'd be easier to catch everyone then too.

"Hmm." he responded. It was a good question, one that made him take a drink of his juice while he thought about it. "Ideally I'd like to impress, and be a graduated rider in three years, but if that doesn't happen, I'm hoping to maybe be training up a few of the weyrbrats as apprentices. I've got enough experience to be a master vinter, and since there's no way that I know of to get my Mastership properly, I figure that'll it'll work out." He chuckled. "What about you? Where do you see yourself?" 

Lymsleia ran a hand through her darkened hair. "Three from now?" she turned to look at him as he spat the question back. "Ideally? I don't know. I am journeyman Healer, I can help with most things. So I'd like to be doing that, though if it happened- I'd want to be a rider. I mean... the stories, the legends- they're true, not some tale.." she sipped her juice idly as they talked.

Her unusual eyes glanced from Escherlov to the  cup, and back to the stars. "I'd love to be one, though barring that. I'll continue to help people, maybe help you in your vineyard, maybe in half a decade try and find someone and settle- though I guess that's not really on the 'list' of things to do. If it happens it happens."


Lymselia closed her eyes. "Being a rider. I don't know- sounds interesting, and like a wild fever-dream." She took a deep breath. "So have you met any any dragons? What are they like? I mean you've been here for three years right." The excitedness in her voice grew, and then suddenly stopped. "Know any people I should know, or look out for?"

"I'm sure you'd make a great rider, whether or not you impress this round or not, and I'm sure that the healers appreciate having another willing set of hands. Are you interested in dragon healing at all?" 

With the second question, Echlerov's mind went to everyone he had met here at the weyr. It was a surprisingly short list, he hadn't really gotten out to met most of the inhabitants, but he still had a few tidbits of info running around. "Well, I don't know very many of the dragons," he admitted, with a wry grin. "they're a little intimidating so I haven't really gone out of the way to get to know them. Most of the dragon riders that I've met are really nice, and if you really wanted to interact with their dragons, they'd probably be more than willing to let you help."

He grinned, and let his eyes dart around. "but, don't try to steal snacks from the kitchen. Some of the staff are sticklers against it. There is one that's more than happy to share, she's a brunette, a little shorter than I am, but I can't remember her name for the life of me." He took another drink of his juice. "Is there anyone in particular that you've heard of that you want to know more about? I may not be of much help, but it's possilbe that I at least know something."

Lymsleia considered something a second. "I want to help anyone I can, be it dragon or human. So I'd say it is an interesting and to be honest, not something that even remotely crossed my mind, until I got here- obviously." She grinned. She clutched the cup. "I haven't met any of the other healers,yet, but no matter where you go it'd be nice to have an extra set of hands. It's always useful."

Lym took a few deep breaths and sipped her cup in silence for a time. Her eyes were fixed skyward. "The stars haven't really changed, and yet they have." She brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I haven't heard of anyone in particularly. You're the first person I've truly met and talked to. But you know what I think I am going to enjoy it here." She reached out to touch Escherlov's arm, and then stopped, clearing her throat. " Apparently Weyrs are really different. My aunt spent time in one as a girl and said it was.. umm.. looser.. I think was the word she used."