Disciplining the ranks

March 3rd 2002
Logged by Kh'ryn

Council Chambers
Smoothed stone, polished by the passage of thousands of turns, gleams in the light of myriad glowbaskets strung up on the walls of the dome ceilinged chamber. Tapestries on all sides add vivid splashes of color, some old, some new, but each depicting a facet of Weyr life both past and present. Centering the rocky hall is the great council table, a thick heavy stone tablet set on several low pillars and surrounded by highbacked wooden chairs. All around the room, painted florils in High Reaches blue and black accent the snow-white banner that runs along the walls near floor and ceiling. If you look carefully, you might find a wayward 'scroll' lying untended.
Various half-hidden stairwells lead up to the weyrs above, and a warm tunnel runs west towards the nearby Hatching Sands. Balanced on tapestry-rods are Rei, Solo, Phoenix, Shango, Liulfr, Jenova, Dystopia, Pix, Kernow, Llamaroo, Marquis, Denver, QuietFlitter, Maeve, Merlot , Qirat, Busty, Verlege, and Aztek.
Tatia, Ciera, and Lylia are here.

Tatia strides into the Council Rooms with a scowl already etched across her features. Gloves are yanked off in violence even as her steps click across the stone of the floor and then shoved into a pocket. Maybe the weather is disagreeing with her? Or maybe it's just Tat.

Ciera strides in rather more calmly than Tatia. Of course, that doesn't say much, and she is wearing a quite uncharacteristic glower. "Are the rumors I heard about Fall yesterday true? I've not had time yet to talk to Thesy and Ilare, but…"

Lylia winces as Tatia enters, the brownrider remaining firmly planted near a more shadowy spot in the council rooms. Her jacket manages to hide the bandaged Threadscore on her left arm, and the shadows almost manage to conceal the fact that she's biting her lower lip as Tat enters. She looks /scary/. Lylia lets out a soft noise, just shaking her head. "They're true." Hence why Lylia's gotta make sure to grill /sense/ into the latest weyrlings. And lots of responsibility.

Kh'ryn is already in the chamber, seated near an ancient filing case, riffling through yellowed pieces of parchment and biting his lip in concentration. T'were it any other rider, one might have been suspiscious at his actions, but seeing how it's Khor… Well.. As the others start to flow into the room, he looks up from his work; clothes covered in minute specks deposited from old hides, and nods respectfully. He didn't mean to overhear, but… "Even Inferno had men lacking," he tells the female riders, before holding up a stack of papers two fingers thick. "Hence the reason I'm here.. Searching for these old records." Odd that immediatly knows what's going on, even if he's not a wingleader, and just a simple bluerider.

Yes, but they all know how gossip flies around /this/ weyr. Tatia's scowl shifts toward Ciera, and she nods shortly. "Nearly every wing, I think - I haven't spoken to the queens, but I know Tsunami had some.. can you /imagine/? The /nerve/?" She stalks toward a table and drops herself into a chair unceremoniously, boots clicking again as they swing up to settle on an empty chair. "Did you have some, Ciera?"

"Definitely every wing. Mudslide seemed a little on the smaller side. And I heard about Inferno from Quara…" Lylia has her connections, she hears all. The rider just shakes her head, flopping back onto a chair and scooting towards the council table. "I can't believe they /did/ that and figured it would be /fine/. Did they all take off somewhere together, or just decide to shardin' /nap/?" Brownrider frustration bubbles over. Bubble. And the face takes on a very definite frown/pout.

Kh'ryn leans back within his chair, stretching taunt muscles; cramped from being in the same hunched position for so long. After this, he rises to his feet and makes a move to excuse himself, being polite enough to clean up the slight mess he had created during his search through the files. "I think I've found enough evidence for what I was looking for," he tells the others, bowing his head before moving to push back his chair. "I'll leave now, so as to not intrude on your meeting.." Plus, Tatia can scare him… Especially when she's not being plied nicely with wine… Meep!

Ciera grabs a chair, spinning it around and dropping into it backwards, like she usually does. She spread her hands out in a futile gesture. "Probably. Jak said Sardrinth and Chanti were furious about the riders who skipped out. but they didn't say whether any were ours. And I haven't been able to grab Thesy or Ilare yet."

Tatia waves a hand at Kh'ryn, scowling up at him as he moves to leave. "Stay, stay… We need an Inferno representative anyway," she points out as she sighs heavily. "Together, I imagine. There were too many of them for this to just be a /coincidence/. They planned it and skipped out to party. I can't /believe/ they thought they'd get away with this!"

"And I'll bet my leathers that Ko'en was among them. Shardin' slacker," Lylia grumbles, a little Druseth-like snarl escaping. The dragon would probably be a more rational representative than Ly, really. "Don't go, you can help come up with an appropriate solution." Like hanging them from the Star Stones by their toes. "I think they left their sense :between:. This makes /no/ sense of them." And the leg begins to twitch, irritably.

Ciera's eyes widen at Tatia's theory. "On /purpose/? But that's insane. They'd know how many would be missing, then, and surely they'd realize what effect so many missing from the wings would have on Fall?" Ciera, despite everything, still has a basic faith in humanity. "I mean, nobody could be /that/ irresponsible, could they?"

Kh'ryn blushes as he's offered to stay, but respectfully does so at the other riders insistance. Grabbing his previously replaced chair, the bluerider drops into it and places his stack of hides neatly upon the tabletop before him. "Well, I think I know /why/ they decided to pull it off," he comments weakly.. though his flush grows in its redness. "I was washing Zylph by the lakeside when he told me that Maximeth's rider, S'tuff, was planning a shindig somewhere on the next snowfall…" And since the snow fell the same day as Thread, of course the brazen bronzerider would give his well-planned party preference. "Maybe they thought that the snow would fall heavily enough to not require so many riders?"

Tatia's heated gaze settles on Kh'ryn as he speaks, lips pressing more and more tightly together as his explanation goes on. "Well. We know who the morons are, don't we? Why don't we ask /them/," she suggests, words sharp and faintly malicious. She'd love to get her hands on those that started this thing.

"Maybe they're just bloody idiots." Growl, sulk. Raawr. Lylia folds her arms over her chest, giving a very definitive nod. "Each wing /knows/ who was missing, so we'll just have to do that. They can tell us what was so /important/." And then G'deon can hang them by their toes from the Star Stones. Right? Right?

Ciera tips her head to one side. "I've had Jakith bespeak Maximeth and Recounth, since I heard V'tor was gone, too." She drums her fingers on the table. "Anyone else we're particularly eager to speak with about this?" A pause, eyes unfocusing briefly, and she adds with a faintly malicious grin, "V'tor and S'tuff are on their way. Jak was quite… adamant… with their dragons."

The young bluerider's face goes from red to white, at the fact that his words have called upon such an action. Gripping the arms of his chair, he makes to rise, stating, "Um.. maybe I should leave /now/?" Yes, Kh'ryn is quite afraid of S'tuff and his cronies, though the bronzerider might never know that the blondman was the one who told… Still, better to be safe then sorry, right? Of course, Kh'ryn is even /more/ afraid of Tatia, so the motion to move is quickly halted…

S'tuff pauses at the entrance and then steps inside.

V'tor swaggers in right behind S'tuff. Logically, he should know that having skipped Fall the day before, swaggering's not exactly the best course of action. But then, they do things /big/ where he comes from. "G'day," he drawls in greeting as he enters. "What seems to be the problem?"

And speaking of said bronzerider, here he is, striding into the chambers like nobody's business. Cocky tilt of his head is then accentuated by crossed arms, and the older man leans against the door frame as his pal V'tor demands what he indeed wants to know. However, instead of sounding cautious or suspicious, S'tuff simply drawls, "How can I be of service to such fine beauties as yourselves?" In his egotistical state, he doesn't even stop to notice that these fine beauties are /not/ looking quite happy to see him.

Such fine beauties, eh? Let's see S'tuff try that on /this/ greenrider. Tatia stands slowly, legs first swinging to settle her boots on the floor, then hands reaching to the table to push herself upward slowly. "Sit /down/," she orders shortly, voice sharp enough to slice through stone. Or flesh. Her gaze has achieved nearly the same level, and it flickers dangerously from one to the other. "We have a few questions to ask of you two.. /boys/."

Ciera scowls as the two delinquent riders enter. The scowl only deepens as they speak. "You could be of /service/ by removing yourself from the reproductive pool," she says acidly. "Until then, though, you can tell us /why/ you didn't bother showing up to Fall yesterday." Her tapping fingers on the table quicken. Her basic faith in humanity doesn't mean she's tolerant of slackers.

"And try to be a little /respectful/ when brought in," Lylia adds in her own, kittenish roar. She's a lion cub, really. She tries to look evil and growling, tapping her foot on the floor as she stares at them. "This is a /serious/ offense to the Weyr." If anyone's removing them from the reproductive pool, she wants to help.

Meanwhile, Kh'ryn just sits there, looking down at his fingernails and biting his lip in silence. Dum dee dum.. He's not here… Really. Ahem.

V'tor looks almost confused, large ears sticking out to either side giving him the look of a confused monkey, of Pern had any such thing. He sits, though, as instructed. And tries to look indignant at the threat and the question. "I've got friends with influence, you know. If my daddy were here…"

S'tuff takes the offered chair, pulling it out and swinging it around in order to sit backwards upon it. Arms then drape over the back, and he sets his head atop crossed wrists. "You know.. You lot are pretty when you're angry.. Eyes all flashing and the like.." Beaming smile follows.. However, even this smooth talker can worm his way out of this one. At the mention of skipping Fall, he makes a move with a finger, waving off the accusations. "It was simply a matter of miscommunication luvs.. Seems we were holding a snow-dip and hot stream party as the Threadfall was noted… And even you have to clearly agree that a group of wine happy, nearly naked riders can't go out and fly Thread, now could they have?"

"/Properly/," Tatia hisses, arms crossing over her chest. Her knuckles glow white against blue leathers (not purple, even if it /is/ her color) as they clench angrily. "Before I make you wish you /could/ sit down properly." She can do it, too. Well… as long as no one bothers to fight back. She's got the nerve, at least. The rest of the questioning she'll leave - for now - to the others. She's too close to hurting the arrogant rider.

Lylia likes to kick monkeys. But that's just a bad habit. The brownrider fixes a withering stare at V'tor, icicles ready to shoot at him and impale him and his man-parts. Hissss. But a little confusion appears as she rolls her eyes at the bluerider. "Who's your daddy?" Blinkblink. A little snarl escapes as she leans forward, scowling at S'tuff. "It doesn't matter if your naked, you need to be /up on your dragon/ and /in the air/. Don't /tell/ us that you didn't have proper warning." Insert random swearing here.

V'tor blanches at Tatia, apparently deciding to ignore her. Though Lylia isn't looking like amuch better prospect at this point. "My /daddy/ used to be Weyrleader at Telgar." He pauses - this is where they're all supposed to be impressed, see? "He and all the people who helped him when he was still Weyrleader still have lots of influence." Yes, indeed. "If I'd Impressed bronze, they would have made sure I was Weyrleader up there, too, in a few Turns." Sulk. Sulk sulk.

Kh'ryn can't help but wince at the voices used by the female riders. He certainly /is/ happy that he's not seated at the other end of those snarls. However, it is nice to watch a bronzerider, tough as he might be, squirm a little.. Though S'tuff seems to be holding up quite well under pressure.. Not like poor V'tol…

"YOu skipped Fall so you could strip and get liquored up?" Ciera's voice is as close to a snarl as you can gte without actually baring teeth and lunging for the throat. "You stupid, wherry-brained gits! You come to fall if it's below freezing, you're naked, soaking wet, and in the middle of screwing the hottest rider on all of Pern. No excuses. None."

Now S'tuff starts to get the impression that these ladies, (and the bluerider) are not too happy with him. Well then, time to pour on the charm even more, neh? Holding up his hands in physical defence from the onslaught of words, the older man backs off his chair and turns it around, before seating himself properly; even crossing his legs at the ankles. "There… Now, seeing that I've complied and sat like a gentleman, why don't you gals start talking like ladies, instead of anxious flitters.. Just /what/ is the big problem here?" The bronzerider raises a brow, and begins to count of matters on a long finger. "One, we missed out on Fall, true. But, two," tick goes another digit, "There were more than enough riders still available, and the snow /did/ help to blanket the Fall, making things lighter." He stops and taps the final finger, adding, "And finally… Can't we all just put this behind us? I mean.. it was a bad decision on our part, true, (Hey, he's not going down alone) but what's done is done, past is past.. Surely you don't want to hold a grudge against those who help make the weyr as wild as it is?" Yes, that was a threat… A very subtle one. You hold this against S'tuff, and he'll make sure none of you are ever invited to one of his impressive soirres again!

"Anxious flitters are the /least/ of your worries," Tatia points out icily, gaze slicing toward S'tuff. "Right now I'd be more worried about your own.. /welfare/." She's within inches of letting the others hold him while she slices 'em off parts he'd deem useful. "That is not a decision that /you/ have the right to make. We are /riders/. For better or worse, it is our /job/ to sharding /get/ on that /dragon/ and /Fight/ Thread! If you have a /problem/ with that, perhaps we need to see about providing you with some /other/ sort of ocupation to fill your time." Glare. No, she's not implying that they should take out Maximeth. But there /are/ back-of-nowhere holds that need watchriders. There are early morning, over the reaches of nowehere, sweeps. There is /cleaning/. What's good for the weyrling is good for the bronzer….

"Missing a group of riders who are out partying is /never/ sufficient. I want you to go up to /every/ rider who suffered a 'score and tell them that you and your lot weren't there to help cover them because you had to get /drunk/ while they were doing actual /work/." Snaaarl. Rabid Lylia. Watch out, or she'll start foaming at the mouth. "I think even the Weyrleader would agree that castration of /certain/ riders would be for the maximum benefit of the Weyr." Rrrr. Like a prowling, growling kitten, those absinthe eyes flash. "The /problem/ is that you're shirking your duties, giving /no/ notice when you are /expected/ to be somewhere. Thread is /not/ a game." Naked twister is a game. Thread is not. Know the distinction.

"But, but, but," V'tor isn't the best for impromptu speeches. At least not without daddy there to tell him what to say. "We thought your strategery would be good enough to make up fer a few of us being missin'. Honestly, it's not like there were lots of scores or anything - less than usualal."

"Every rider count. /Every/ rider." Ciera's moved from snarling to grating. "Do you think we go out there and fight because we have nothing better to do?" Well, she doesn't have anything better to do, but that's besides the point. "We ought to send you out to do sweeps without your riding leathers. WE ought to make you swim in the lake first! The dawn sweeps!"

Finally, the previously quiet blushing bluerider speaks up; his voice soft, but his words meaningful.. "Being a rider is more than chasing skirt and getting liquored up. You were Searched, and then Impressed to your lifemates because there was something deep inside that attracted them to you. Something… responsible, that showed that you'd be strong and respectful of your duty. Going against that, no matter how slight, is a direct insult to those people and dragons who trusted you. You should be ashamed." And after that speech, Kh'ryn goes back to staring at his nails, and.. of course.. flushing. Though now the color is more based on anger than embarassement.

S'tuff is about to continue his long and drawn out schpeal, when suddenly, the blushing lad at the end of the table speaks. A sudden flush of anger crosses the bronzerider's face, and he almost pushes himself to his feet. "Don't tell /me/ what respect is, boy," he seethes, the charm peeling off in great globs as his deepdown shame boils to the surface as fury instead. "You know nothing about what it means to have to maintain the life I do… Busting our arses over Thread when most holdbred folk don't even /understand/ the dangers we face. Taking a bit'o time for ourselves, even if it means skirking our duties once every thirty Turns, is the least we can ask for… You want to talk about respect? Ask what the holders have done for /us/ lately…" Apart from supply them with all their supplies, including the precious wine that flows at one of S'tuffs exagerate parties. However, the words are all jumbled together in frustration, so instead of sounding slighted, the bronzer comes off sounding more irrisponsible than ever. Perhaps now would be a good time to send him off in disgrace?

Or to castrate him. Tatia is going for the latter. She moves swiftly, standing directly in front of him so she can glower down at him. And despite her tiny size, a glowering Tat can be /scary/. Mostly because she's doesn't tend to hesitate to act on those emotions fueling the fire in her eyes. "/You/," she intructs lowly, voice barely held under control. "Will not speak again until given permission to do so. Kh'ryn has a /very/ good point. One you would do /well/ to remember." Her eyes flick toward the blushing bluerider, and she nods firmly, once, before eyeing the bronzer again. If she hit him, would he hit back? Get her a bit angrier and she won't care. "It doesn't /matter/ what they have done for us - we have a /responsibility/! Which you /intentionally/ shirked!" Ok. Maybe someone /should/ send him away in disgrace. Before someone gets hurt.

"But you're talking about flying Thread like it's some sort of Weyr program." V'tor, apparently, doesn't realize just how dumb he sounds. "We have a responsibility, sure, but we filled that responsibility, and if we were able to do so while cutting the number of riders it took, I don't see the problem." Commence with the monkey-face look. Only now he's a monkey that's trying to sound like he knows what he's talking about and isn't confused.

"And what about your responsibility to the /Weyr/, S'tuff?" Lylia shifts closer in her chair, those glinting canine teeth showing. The blue 'lizard wound around her neck gives a little hiss of discontent, adding in his own bug-eyed stare. "Forget the Holds for a moment, when you agreed to step foot on the sands to try for that dragon, that was your promise to uphold Weyr responsibility. And you /didn't/, when there's /lives/ and limbs depending on you." And puppies and kittens and all sorts of fuzzy life on Pern that would turn into blobby masses of nothingness and not even have the time for a fuzzy animal shriek should Thread fall upon them. "You /cannot/ act like this. I can't believe you could honestly believe this was okay. How dimwitted are you? /How/ did you fulfill that responsibility, V'tor?"

Kh'ryn would wince at the angry debriefing from S'tuff, however, Tatia's backing gives him heart… And a fair bit of courage. Therefore, head is lifted, and he continues to listen and watch the going on's with interest… Though, he is a fair bit worried about violence sparking out between riders…

"Oh, well. When I said we, it was a collectitative we." V'tor fidgets in his seat. "Like, you know, /you/." Okay, so that's really not helping his case. "And I'm not dimwitted. I think think differenately."

The sound of cheery whistling seems strangely out of place as it draws near the Council Chambers, soon followed by the oh-so-boyishly-charming form of N'sync. Whistling. One of those irritatingly jaunty tunes that don't count as music, but which entrench themselves firmly in your memory anyway. "Yo, V'tor my man!" he calls, oblivious, as usual, to any tenseness in the room. "You called? What's goin' down? You guys wantin' to hook up with some of those girls we met during Fall the other da…." He stops suddenly, glancing around at the various glaring faces. Erm…

S'tuff is about to comment again, but his fury has forced his tongue to lock to the roof of his mouth… Either that, or he's old enough and wise enough to take Tatia's order to heart. Either way, he keeps mum, even when N'Sync enters the fray. He'd share a thought or two of wisdom with the younger rider, via their dragons, were he inclined, but as already seen… S'tuff's share of grace and charm has dwindled away to nothing, leaving a very sour looking older man seated before the council.

If Ciera looked upset before, she positively seethes now, either because of V'tor's moronic response or because N'sync entered. And the has the /gall/ to be whistling. "I suppose," she snarls at the brownrider, "that you were busy getting some poor girl drunk enouugh to look twice at you while the rest of us were fulfilling our commitment to the Weyr, and our duty to the rest of Pern?" Hiss, spit, where's the gelding knife?

Tatia backs down as S'tuff does, expression disgusted as she raises a hand. "Well. We've determined where they were and why," she states, each word carefully measured. "Perhaps we should let them go and figure out what we're going to /do/ to them…" She trails off, looking toward N'sync as he enters. Oooohhhh, no.

"/I/ know what I think we shuold do to 'em…" Lylia gives that evil little smirk, and pricks up as N'sync enters. Fresh meat! "N'sync! Sit /down/!" Ly barks out as efficiently as she can. Loooooooom. She remembers /this/ one as a weyrling. Doooooom. "And tell us what's /wrong/ in that pointy, dimwitted head of yours!" The one on his shoulders, thank you.

V'tor pipes up, almost timid beneath Lylia's fresh onslaught. "My head, or N'sync's?"

And yet another rider to be verbally assaulted by the ladies present. Kh'ryn wonders how much more of this he can watch, without finally feeling sorry for the moronic men seated before them… Probably a bit more, though the flush returns to his cheeks at Lylia's exclamations.

"Well, /my/ head isn't pointy, so what do /you/ think?" N'sync questions, drawling the words slowly as he eyes his blueriding clutchmates and then turns to grin, Boyish Charm on high, at Lylia. "Hey, relax, sweets. We'll invite you next time, all right?" He remains standing, managing to look totally at ease as he lounges in the center of the Council Chambers.

S'tuff almost wants to smack the younger rider himself, and raises a hand to do so… before thinking better of it. Tatia might assume the smack is for her, and no matter how angry he is /now/, there's no way the bronzer would ever slap a woman. A hissed comment is sent N'Sync's way; something along the lines to 'shut up you idiot,' and 'I already tried that.'

Ciera grins, a feral sort of expression. "You'll invite us next time if you don't value certain equipment you have enough to keep it where it is. If there /is/ a next time, you won't be /able/ to so much as /look/ at another woman for /Turns/, let alone actually touch her. And you won't be able to whistle your sharding /annoying/ songs, and Faranth /help/ you if you try to sit down!" Come to think of it, why wait until next time? Why not just take care of the whole matter now?

It's too bad Tat isn't privy to that information.. if she was certain S'tuff wouldn't hit back, he would've been sporting a black eye ages ago. As it is, she stalks to the other side of the room in exaperation, eyes flaring and lips pressed tightly together. This is what Tatia calls self control.

"Unless I'm being invited to your /death/ or your /castration/, I'm not /interested/." Raawr. And the kitten pounces on the sock'd foot, fangs going 'raawr, bite!'. "And /either/ of you, V'tor, since I assume with with such a /lack/ of sense the two of you must be sharing a mind, and there's not enough intelligence to go around. N'sync, do you have any /decent/ explanation that your two fellow idiots haven't tried?" Or is this where they get out the whips?

V'tor is temporaryily struck dumb (hardeharharhar) as he realizes even Daddy can't help him right now.

Kh'ryn idly plays with the papers stacked before him on the table, the shuffle hopefully not distracting anyone from their current questionings. He hasn't much to say, considering the fact that he's already said his peace about the whole affair; standing up to S'tuff, none the less. He does, however, manage to clear his throat, and motion with a nod towards the few drudges poking their heads every so often into the chambers. Let them listen to N'sync's side, and then, hopefuly, the matter of dealing with these few will be finished… Until, that is, the discussion of how to punish these ones gets underway.

N'sync shrugs nonchalantly. "We needed a break, man. Hard work.. all work and no play, you know." A faint smirk across the brownrider's face indicates just how many ways 'play' can be taken. "You guys need to /relax/."

S'tuff grumbles something yet again, this time, it sounds a lot like 'shut up'. Then, raising his head, his anger still apparent, but a sickly smile covering his lips. "So.. We've stated our reasons. Might it be possible for us to depart now while you make of this what you may?" Words are slithered out in a mocking respectful tone, but the truth of them is there. There's nothing much that he can offer, so why not let 'em go?

Tatia is still seething. Don't make her hurt someone. Either that, or /let/ her hurt someone. Seriously. She turns suddenly on S'tuff, eyes flaring. "Get /out/," she hisses lowly. "Get out, and don't you /dare/ set foot outside your weyr until you recieve instructions otherwise. And no one is to go /in/, either. We /will/ teach you some respect and some /responsibility/." That's likewise directed at the other two.

"You had better go /directly/ to your weyr, and if we find you in there with anyone, or drinking… Oh, you will /pay/." Lylia is not nice. She kicks puppies, y'know. And Pyrenes. "Because you are going to /suffer/ the consequences for this, and if you're ever even /late/ to a Fall again, you will have your head ripped off and put on my wall." And you can take your pick as to which one she's talking about. "And you'd better take whatever punishment you get without /any/ complaint."

S'tuff doesn't have to be told twice. Raising from his chair, he passes the others a scathing look, before exiting the chambers, leaving the two younger riders to sink or swim as they may.

"Yes." V'tor didn't have a whole lot of backbone to begin with - he stole his spine from his father's aging friends. Corpses don't make much fuss when you steal their vetebral columns. Now, he can't even manage to squeak out a ma'am to end his statement of agreement. Almost knocking over his chair in his haste, he beats a quick retreat. By golly, when he manages to get some polls done, they'll see how wrong they are…

As N'sync is the only one apparently still remaining, Ciera directs a wordless snarl at him. "Is there a reason you're still here?"

N'sync doesn't appear phased in the least. But then, he was a late comer, and he hasn't gotten the full impact of glowering female anger. "Just enjoyin' the view," he intones smoothly, shifting slowly to eye Ciera with appreciation. Ooo. Brave man. And the he turns and /saunters/ from the room, one slow step at a time. Whistling.

And with that scathing comment lingering on the air, Ciera stalks out of the chambers.
Ciera goes home.

Kh'ryn watches silently as people begin to stomp or strut out of the chambers, though he remains seated until the end.. Wouldn't want to upset anyone now… Especially with tempers as high as they are.

Tatia collapses into a chair as soon as the trio is gone, nearly shaking from the exhaustive amount of energy it takes to maintain Self Control. Tat's not good at that, you know. She slumps into her chair, arms crossed over her chest, and heaves a huge sigh. "Ok," she states after a long moment. "/Now/ what?"

"Let's throw 'em out. Just lock 'em away." And a few expletives escape the oh-so-innocent lips of Lylia. She doesn't like them, nope. "Or just not show up at their weyrs and let them be stuck in there for a few sevendays until they nearly starve." Grumble, grumble, sulk. Stomp, snork. Snark. "I don't know what punishment would be great enough for that… gross incompetance."

Not being a 'leader' sort, Kh'ryn doesn't have much say as to what should be done about the incompentent riders. He does, however, mention aloud that he should be running off to brind his earlier gathered records to his own wingheads. Not that they'll be much good now, since most the troublesome lot have already been aprehended. "I'll make sure to inform you if there's any others that might have skirted their duties overly so in the past," he tells the last riders gathered. Then, with that, the blondman pushes himself away from the table, tucks in his chair, and heads towards the exit.

Tatia sighs, offering a slow nod. "Right. And I suppose we'd better be sure Gid knows about this.. we either need to make sure all the wingleaders make a decision together or have it come down from him," she states, arms unfolding to drape across the table. She glanes up at Kh'ryn as he stands, nodding shortly. "Sure thing. Thanks, Kh'ryn." And alas, no questions about how he's feeling today.

"Yeah. That'll be somethin' to get started on." Lylia gives a resigned agreement, slumping back in her chair. The kitten is all tired out. "Guess we'll have to let them deal with this. Won't happen again. Can't happen again."

Kh'ryn turns to nod once more, before leaving the once-again quieted recesses of the council chambers.

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