Post-Hatching party (clutch 12)

December 11th 2004
Logged by Rysta

Living Caverns
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls. No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind… [look closer]
X'ian, Wyn, Pyrene, Trajan, Taree, Antonias, and O'don are here.

Trajan wanders around after seeing to it that the food gets out, then just shakes his head, heading around to the hearth to peek at X'ian..a bit sympathetically. Wet and High Reaches just…don't mix well. "Can I get you something warm to eat? You look near frozen." Doing things helps take the baker's mind off /other/ things after all.

O'don has changed out of his candidate robe into practical trousers and sweater, but the slightly stunned look on his face remains exactly the same.

Taree nods to Pyrene with a smile and sips at her wine slowly. "Yes, actually, she was." She looks around and then sees her daughter walk into the caverns. Waiting near the goldrider, she watches as Rysta walks over to her and then offers her daughter a smile and a nod. "Congratulations, Rysta." There's only a small tremor in her voice as she speaks.

X'ian is slowly but surely warming up where he is near the fire - but as he's close enough to hear snippets of what's going on around him without actually getting involved just yet, he remains where he is, moving only to peer mildly down at Trajan. "Got anything that'll taste okay if it happens to come back up later?"

O'don has changed out of his candidate robe into practical trousers and sweater, but the slightly stunned look on his face remains exactly the same. Wandering into the living cavern, he heads to get something to drink, scowling at the wine as he realises that /still/ isn't an option.

Antonias loosens his collar by a bare margin, his skin ever so slightly flush, but remains very much a stuffy scholar. Glancing an aside at Wyn, he allows a trace of a smirk to curve his lips. "Providing that you supply me with something cool to drink so as to bring my core temperature down, I don't think so. Honestly, that's impossible conditions. An interesting example of the differences in physiology between dragonkind and humankind, I think. Higher temperatures, higher metabolism." He bites down on further talk in that vein, saving it for a treatise to be worked out in the future.

Rysta walks to her mother as she comes into the caverns, surprise on her features that the healer master decided to come after all the letters to the contrary she received during her candidacy. "Thank you, mother," she murmurs to the master, nodding slightly and blushing a little at the congratulations. Finding a glass of juice, she begins to sip at it slowly.

Pyrene casts Rysta a smile but then discreetly moves back letting mother and daughter have an emotional moment if they're going to. Instead she offers O'don some juice with a sympathetic smile. "Only another turn or so," she tells him cheerfully. "I see Wyn's found herself some man for the occasion - not her usual type, is it?" Admittedly Pyrene knows little about Wyn's tastes in men, but she's using N'sync as her standard.

Trajan makes a face at that, brows lifting just a little. "Well I don't think there's anything in the world that /would/ taste good coming back up.." That's just icky, after all. "How about a get you a towel instead?" Dryness makes for better warmness.

"Yeah, sure. A towel's fine." X'ian replies with less sarcasm, turning back to the fire to continue brooding and listening without really looking like…he's listening.

Taree merely nods to her daughter once, placing her wine glass aside and offering a smile to Rysta before gathering her into a hug. "Take care," she murmurs once, before moving away again. "I …should get back to the hall." Smiling again, she murmurs, "Write often? And when you can, come and visit. I'm at Ista now."

"Also the fact that, dragons lacking enough uterine space to develop and entire clutch to maturity internally, the hatching sands must be kept to body heat or above," Wyn offers her own opinion to Antonias, giving Pyrene a bare nod as they pass by the weyrwoman, en route to the drinks, and, incidentally, Trajan and X'ian. "Would you have any light, tart fruit juices, Trajan?" she queries of the baker. "And X'ian, you were being notably silent during the hatching. Have I introduced you to Antonias yet?"

Tarrim walks in from the Central Bowl.
Taree exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

Trajan heaves a small sigh, but nods, quietly shuffling away from X'ian in order to fetch a towel for the rider. He dissapears from the cavern for a few minutes, before coming back with one, gently placing the folded material next to X'ian before he edges off again silently. Blink. He looks at Wyn quietly for a moment, before offering her a small smile, nodding in the direction of the drinks. "I believe..that there are a few of those."

Tarrim comes out of the kitchens, the smell of fresh baking following just behind.

Rysta doesn't get a chance to answer her mother and simply watches as she quickly leaves the caverns. With a bit of a shake of her head, she moves toward the others there to celebrate the impressions that were made. She walks over to where Pyrene and O'Don are, offering them both a smile and then saying, "Congratulations again, O'Don."

Tarrim opts for broad stairs that lead up to the Crafting rooms above the inner caverns.

"Thanks for the juice." O'don gives Pyrene a rather shy smile, and Rysta a broader one. "Well, you know Wyn. Nothing wrong with having a companion, is there?" He's rambling, rather, eyes a little wide and vaguely sleepy.

Crepe walks in from the Central Bowl.

Antonias accords Pyrene a deeper nod than Wyn had as they move past. "Well, naturally. I suppose sitting around a room at human body temperature waiting for babies to hatch would be just as uncomfortable," he says with a light trace of dry humor, the mental image that offers striking a chord with his occasionally bizarre - and typically morbid - sense of humor. Turning his attention to Trajan as Wyn addresses him, he asks, just a trace of condescension in his voice, "Now that we've ascertained that they exist, could you point them out?" He then glances to X'ian, expression mild and neutral.

Tarrim comes down from the workrooms above.
Tarrim walks to the Hearth.

Pyrene sends a nod to Taree as she leaves, and then a grin to Rysta. "Congratulations," she calls. "Did you want a drink?" And there's Crepe. "Juice, Crepe, don't forget. You've got too much responsibility to get drunk now." Her eyes dance, before Antonias and Wyn pass by her again, and she returns their nods - with an added wink for Antonias. "I thought she liked 'em sleazier. Mind you, I suppose she'd know the gossip at healer better than I would," she muses, taking in the man's knot.

Tarrim walks in from the Hearth.
Tarrim exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

Rysta glances toward the doorway to the caverns as Crepe comes in and offers her friend a wide smile and a wave. "Crepe!" She grins to her and sips at her juice again. "You ought to have some juice I'm sure you're as parched as we are." Looking to Pyrene, she holds up her glass that she obtained when her mother was here and then grins to the goldrider. "And thanks."

"Thanks." X'ian mutters aside to Trajan, lifting the towel to run it lazily back over his damp hair as he turns to face Wyn and Antonias in full, his expression just as nuetral. If you don't count the way his jaw is clenched, and his thin, faint smile has been forced into a tortured sort of existance. "I don't believe you have."

Fruit juice. O'don sips it slowly, contemplatively, disappointedly. "You know, I rather hoped I'd be left Standing, just so I could get a decent drink," he murmurs, eyeing Wyn's companion with a lot of interest. "Healer, is he? Hmmm. Makes a change…" He gives Rysta and Crepe broad smiles.

"Thank you, Trajan. Could you have one of the serving girls bring us two glasses, then?" Wyn explains her request, a little more kindly than Antonias, but with a touch of decided humour in her tone. She's already past Pyrene and O'don as the weyrwoman's comment floats back to her, and therefore the slight stiffening to her shoulders and expression isn't available for Pyrene to target upon, at least. "I wonder… if humans could lay and hatch eggs, do you suppose we'd have a larger or smaller population? And would babies grow as rapidly? That might be enough to convince me to have one. Bronzerider X'ian, Journeyman Healer Antonias, poisons expert. Antonias, this is X'ian, Morchainth's rider and currently cranky about something, although he's attempting to hide it."

M'rah walks with irregular high steps in from the Central Bowl.

Trajan is quiet for a moment, as his attention shifts toward Antonias. While he's been trying very hard to remain his polite self, especially when there's work to be done, a certain baker under emotional turmoil is one rather easy to snap, most especially if spoken down at. "The drinks are all very carefully labled, sir, and are three tables down on your left. The table with all the drinks." So there. Though Wyn's words do cause him to soften a little and look rather embarassed. "Of course," Which he sees to immediately, giving one of the girls a small nudge in the direction of the drinks, murmuring to her. "I'm sorry, Wyn, my minds not at the moment, you understand?" Of course it's not there. It's back in the Galleries as he thinks of the appearance of a certain brownrider.

Pyrene rolls her eyes. "Well, we can take Gwynegeth away if you'd prefer," she tells him acerbically. "Short of that, I'm afraid you've got to stick to juice and can't take anybody to warm your bed tonight - except your dragon, but I really wouldn't recomment starting by sleeping with them." She browses the room. "I, on the other hand, may follow Wyn's example." On some things, she feels the bluerider isn't entirely off base. "I wonder if F'ish is free tonight… Mraleh - or what is it now? Congratulations anyway! Have some juice."

"No, I'll keep her!" O'don hastily asserts. "Although I might sleep with her, actually - those barracks are cold. Poor love, she's shivering now." Which of course she isn't, since dragons can cope with the cold. He's just making it up. Don does roll his eyes at Pyrene's mention of F'ish - "Can't you do better than that, Weyrwoman?"

Crepe, still a bit dazed and dumbfounded, makes her way towards the table and, of course, the juice. Oh, cold, wonderful juice. She sips her glass slowly, chewing on her lip inbetween swallows. Aww. Why, oh why did she have to leave her new-found specialthing? Mumble, mumble.

M'rah is still a bit aimless, but it's certainly better that Pyrene's called his old name. He's surely not used to the new one yet. But juice is good for whatever name he's using. "Thanks, thanks! I still can't even believe it!"

Repressing a smirk as Wyn makes her request of Trajan, Antonias makes a physical effort to rearrange his features, running his hand down over his mouth and chin in an idle gesture. He turns a dry look on Trajan over the rim of his glasses. "I must have missed it. Thank you for pointing it out," he says with cool politeness. "I believe Wyn has spoke favorably of you." Antonias lies, not able to immediately recall X'ian's name. He plays the card of courtesy with typically high-handed Fortian manners. He turns a faintly amused look on Wyn, although he continues to address the bronzerider. "So polite of her to introduce us so. I feel the need to mention that I rarely use other /humans/," he says with delicate emphasis, "to test my poisons. Furthermore, I will try not take anything you might say in offense as she has so kindly pointed out your lack of good humor."

Rysta chuckles a little and murmurs, "I've never drank, so…not missing much." She chuckles at O'Don's statements and nods a bit. "I was seriously thinking of sleeping with Uli too." She's already shortening the name. Looking to Crepe, she chuckles again and then offers a wave to M'rah. "Congratulations. Didn't get a chance to tell you that when we were on the sands." She was a little preoccupied by that last hatchling.

"We've not had a dragonet freeze to death yet, as you should know," Pyrene reproves O'don. "Your mother will be delighted - have you seen her? I told her that if she was going to cry she couldnt' do it over you in public, so I'm wondering if she's off bawling somewhere.

"Speaking from experience, I must say that even *rarely* is far too often for my immediate liking." Merely glancing to Wyn at her introduction, X'ian mantains his stony composure, the glare he's pushing on Antonias as hard and cold as he can manage without being outright belligerent.

M'rah sips his juice, the natural sugar in it refreshing him almost immediately. "It's a good tired, though," he interjects to Rysta. "And it makes perfect sense you wouldn't have thought of it there! I wouldn't have…I didn't…" Pause. "Yes, congratulations!"

"There's a first time for everything, Weyrwoman," O'don points out, though whether he's talking about freezing dragonets or his mother bawling her eyes out is debatable. "Erm. Shouldn't you be talking to the visitors?" he asks her, sidling a bit closer to his fellow weyrlings. "Congratulations to you all again, too," he chimes in.

Rysta looks to M'rah and smiles as she sips her juice again. "Yes, this is true. Uli is…" She trails off and grins again, shaking her head and shrugging, at a loss for words to describe her joy at having the dragon as a lifemate. Looking to O'Don as he sidles closer to them, she murmurs, "So, we're weyrlings now what all will this entail?"

Lis ambles aimlessly in from the Central Bowl.

"Henbane." says Wyn to Antonias, by way of an explanation that only the three people having the conversation will understand. She glances between the subtly snotty Antonias and the less-subtly scowling X'ian, and seems to decide that it would be healthiest for her not to get between the two of them, because she sidesteps away briefly to retrieve the requested drinks, and give Trajan a brief pat on the arm. "It's always hard, going through that," she murmurs. "But at least he came, mm?" Condolences given regarding a certain rider of Sidramuntalath's, she returns to her circle of people with a brief "Congratulations" to Crepe, Rysta and M'rah as she passes them. "So, X'ian, on the topic of herbalry and research, if Morchainth was ever gravely injured in Fall, would you be interested in allowing me to try a few experimental procedures in order to save him?" Almost if its' own accord, Wyn's hand finds the healer's arm again, the gesture oddly innocent and high school for the classy maneater of a weyrsecond.

Pyrene feels replaced. By a dragon. Sniffing a little, she sidles off, murmuring politely to guests until she spots Lis and flashes to her friend's side. "Have some wine," she presses, grinning. "How're you feeling?"

M'rah nods softly, taking another sip of juice. "And Lierdeth already knows so much, somehow…" It seems like he wants to question more into that right now, but the little green is soundly asleep.

Antonias's smile turns unpleasantly smug as he regards X'ian with a soft, amused, "Ah," in reponse to Wyn's words. "Your name isn't Morallen," Antonias says, his smile carrying a tinge of the saccharine. A light curl of sarcasm winds through his polite tones, only a bit more subtle than X'ian's brick-to-the-head glare. "You can rest assured that in the interim you are safe; I wouldn't have forewarned you had I any intention of slipping something into your drink in the near future." He gave Wyn's arm a fond little pat and gave her a sideways glance and a smirk. "Given your charm, no doubt you need worry about it often enough, brownrider," he says to the -bronze-rider.

Lis, her face red and blotchy, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, is happy to take the wine from Pyrene. But before she gets a chance to answer, a handful of Tsunamis stand up and begin to sing. "Here's to Lis, to Lis, to Lis, here's to Lis, she's with us tonight. She's dashing, she's daring, she smells like a herring. Here's to Lis, she's with us tonight. So drink, mom, drink, mom, drink." And so the greenrider chugs, in celebratory abandon. As she finishes, one Tsunami asks, "Can we get O'don drunk yet?"

O'don leans against a table and stares mournfully at his juice. "No alcohol for another Turn or so, for one thing," he replies to Rysta, then grins. "Well, as I understand it, we'll get to do lots of cutting up of dead animals for a few months to feed our dragons till they learn to feed themselves. And we get to clean all their messes out of the barracks. That's pretty smelly, but no worse than the stables."
O'don turns then on hearing Tsunami singing, and develops a broad smile.

Trajan would much rather not have seen Ike, than have to sit there and not be able to say a word to him. He does offer a faint smile at Wyn though, nodding anyway before moving away again, the baker retreating for the kitchen quickly.
Trajan heads north into the redolent depths of the kitchens.

Rysta nods to O'Don and grins. "Not a problem. I've yet to have tried any. Mum never let me have any and as an apprentice at the Healer Hall I wasn't allowed." She chuckles then and nods once more. "Well, that I can deal with. Both the cutting the meat and the cleaning. For Uli, I can handle anything."

M'rah turns around abruptly at the singing, an expression close to shock on his face. Drunken singing used to seem less off-key…"I think they'll want to learn to feed themselves pretty quickly. But it is worthwhile for as long as they need!" Sappy much?

Angel pops in from ::between::, wings sparkling gold.

"Bronzerider." X'ian corrects stiffly, managing to completely ignore Lis and her singing in order to keep glaring at Antonias. "Pleasure meeting you, Healer." Another moment or two of rigid glaring, and X'ian drops his gaze and turns away, heading in a suspiciously Lis-like direction.

Pyrene applies a napkin to Lis' chin. "You're a disgrace, y'know," she clucks at her, before shoving her towards O'don. "Go, congratulate your son." Misinterpreting M'rah's shock, she passes by the weyrling with a chuckle. "Ah, there's plenty more where that came from. Wait til you're tapped."

Tarrim walks in from the Central Bowl.

"Oh, hush, Pyrene," Lis replies, battin the Weyrwoman's hand away. "My son only Impresses once in a lifetime, you know. Just let them get it out of their systems." None too drunk yet - and under Pyrene's tutelage, she'll not be - she only stumbles towards O'don because Pyrene shoved her. "Donis! O'don! Come here and give your mom a hug!" Arms are outstretched, waiting to smother her progeny to her bosom. X'ian will have to wait his turn.

"Course it's worth it," O'don agrees with M'rah, and then with another broad grin goes to hug his mother. It's not like he can get out of it - not that he'd want to. Plus, he spotted X'ian looking towards her.

"I feel," says Wyn to Antonias in an absent tone as she watches X'ian glare a little more and then take his leave. "Like someone who has just introduced a new family member to a canine accustomed to claiming the foot of their bed… oh dear." She shakes her head and hands over one of the glasses of juice, giving a nod to the rest of the crowd. "Up to taking a few turns around the caverns for the sake of socializing and political acumen before I use you as an excuse to escape? I think I'll give my regards to the weyrlings privately later… although that girl over there is Master Taree's daughter Rysta, you might have had her in a class or two, if they've managed to pry you free from your work room."

Pyrene gives Lis and O'don one last affectionate grin, before she moves off seeking out weyrlings to congratulate and… a willing body. As soon as her latter search is successful, the former is curtailed, and the Weyrwoman beats a hasty retreat with a resident of the lower caverns - an old flame of hers who isn't averse to another night apparently.

"He's charming. Is he housetrained?" Antonias tries very hard not to smirk at X'ian's back and succeeds only by virtue of turning his attention to Wyn. Bluntly, as he glances over at Rysta, Antonias says, "If I did, she didn't stand out as any sort of scholar. Most of them are too busy passing notes they pretend I can't see to take any -actual- notes that might be of more use to them then a witless exchange over X attractive member of the opposite sex." He shifts his arm slightly, in proper escorting position. "If you must, I will try to submit to the socialization with good grace. I'll smile prettily and make sure to accentuate your wit," he says dryly.

And Lis is a disgrace in Pyrene's eyes? Tsk. The only man the greenrider is holding tight is currently her son, who she's squeezing and cooing over. "Oh, I'm /so/ proud of you. My /son/, a dragonrider. Oh, I just know you'll be top of your weyrling class and pick of the bunch when it's time for wing tappings." The megolmania rambles on.

If X'ian caught that, he makes no indication, toweling idly at his sideburns and the back of his neck before tossing the towel into an unoccopied chair. Now standing on the fringes of cavern activity, he manages not to look too disgusted at Lis smothering her son.

Whether O'don shares his mother's plans for domination or not, he's too sensible to show it in front of his fellow weyrlings. After allowing Lis to slobber on his neck for a moment, he then extracts himself from her grip. "You're happy enough that I Impressed green?" he asks hopefully, adding, "I suppose it stops us worrying about if I had a male and he wanted to chase Alymath…" Not a nice image, that.

Lis agrees, in the disgusted grimace she makes. "Of /course/ I'm happy. Psst." She drops her face close to Donis, confiding some Great Secret of Greenriding. "The /best/ part about riding green is that no one expects anything of you. Oh, sure, maybe it's a curse, but if you ever feel like skiving off one day? No one thinks twice. Not that there aren't hardwork, responsible greenriders," she adds, lest Tatia be watching. "Oh, but I'm embarassing you." Belated epiphany of the night. "Go with your friends, don't mind us old aunties." Disengaging her maternal tentacles, she jettisons Donis.

"Now, now, don't be nasty." Wyn reaches up to tap the bridge of Antonias' glasses. "You did, after all, indirectly poison him, a fact which he determined…" A hasty substitution. "On his own." We will not be airing the existence of Wyn's journal, or the illicit reading therof, it seems. Settling herself more gracefully on the tweedy Fortian's arm, and directs them over towards the mother and child reunion to offer "My congratulations, Lis… O'don." A shake of her head for the name. "You're already planning a greenrider dynasty, no doubt?"

"Why would I want to skive off?" O'don gives his mother a wide-eyed, baffled look, which sags into a wide smile as he leans forward to spontaneously hug her again. He turns then to bestow the smile on Wyn and her companion: "Well, I don't know. I think Auryn might prefer Rennis to Impress a brown," he replies.

Antonias lifts Wyn's hand to place a light kiss on her knuckles in response to the tap, silent apology and a promise to behave better. The faintly amused gleam of his eyes behind his glasses is not especially promising along that line, however. He's all scholar-and-tweed by the time they reach Lis. Taking his cue from Wyn, he glances between Lis and O'don, looking for a familial resemblance while offering nothing more than a mild, "Oh dear," hastily converted into, "Ah- Congratulations, indeed."

The instant O'don has been jettisoned, X'ian steps in to take his place, one brow arched as the opposite hand finds its way subtly onto Lis' bum. Completely innocently, of course.

Rysta glances around having been staring off into space for a time. She looks toward the others in the caverns and smiles a bit, sipping at her juice again and looking around for someone she can speak to.

"Why thank you, Wyn. All I did was pop him out." Lis will take no more credit beyond gestation. For old time's sake, she ruffles the hint of curl that Donis still has - and then X'ian distracts her. "Why hello, X'ian. I take it you didn't attend the Hatching, since you've decided to favor us with a clean version of yourself?" The hand on her bottom is grabbed on one knuckle and dragged back north of the equator.

K'nex wanders in from the Central Bowl.

O'don gives X'ian a hard stare, and turns his back on the man. Which means on Lis, too, but that's how it goes. Pouring himself a fresh glass of juice, he nibbles enthusiastically at a meatroll as he moves himself to a chair by Rysta. "After feeding her all that raw meat, I'm really not hungry - how about you?" he asks the other weyrling.

"I was there." X'ian replies mildly, his expression unchanging even as he looks evenly back at Donis and allows his hand to be pulled up hipwards. "But I will say that I'm clean much more of the time than people tend to suspect."
K'nex is not here. Or…he'd like to pretend he isn't. Or something along those lines. The brownrider simply makes a face at the crowd - such as it is - biting his lip. Hm. Then he slinks around people, heading for the food and drink in which is probably not the most direct route, but probably the easiet.
Rysta smiles to O'don as he joins her and sips at her juice again. She nods a bit to him and looks at the food. "Well, yeah. I'm not overly hungry myself. I guess that's why." She chuckles a little and then sips at her juice again. "I figure I'll be hungry later."

Wyn isn't holding her breath. But, having made her feelings on the subject of further X'ian-baiting known, she's content to be sociable and forgiving, nodding once to Lis and O'don and remarking that "If bloodlines hold any sway, he could end up riding bronze, since his grandfather is M'rin, yes? Although I have to say that I'm biased towards the smaller colours myself… and it seems we're interrupting some unspoken conversation…" A grey-eyed glance skims downwards to take in the repositioning of X'ian's hand. "So I believe we'll take our leave." And off Wyn goes again, although she's careful not to appear to be -dragging- poor Ias. "I believe she'll either slap him or bed him, or both, within the next couple of hours." is her opinion, delivered in a quiet aside, and then perking up as she spots someone else. "Ah. One last social stop before I let you escape all these people you don't know. K'nex over there is a good friend of mine, and is quite interested," A dry pause. "In meeting you."

"Probably tomorrow morning when the dragonets wake up starving - you'll feel what she feels, you know?" Weyrbred, O'don is already an expert, or so he seems to think. He nods to Wyn as she moves away, and he shuffles his chair so he definitely doesn't have to see what his mother might be doing to or with X'ian. "Was that your mother here earlier?" he asks Rysta.

Antonias still looks a bit dragged, though, given the way he glances over his shoulder with a twitch of a sardonic, 'Hah hah', as Lis subtly rearranges X'ian's hand. "Ah, weyrs," he says, something very much of Fort in the roll of the words. "Reassuring, Wyn. Is this the sort of 'interested' which requires assurances of how very much I respect you, akin to what I had to offer to keep Morallen civil, or the sort of 'interested' in which I ought to make a quick inventory of the nearest exits?"

Crepe pipes up. "Actually, I /am/ hungry." Figures that she'd be the only one still very, very hungry after all of the messy feeding. She swallows the last bit of her juice and sets the glass down in front of her. She's still quite exhausted, and enjoys eavesdropping on the affairs of the Weyr.

Lis doesn't look too interested in either bedding /or/ slapping X'ian - in fact, she's being quite civil. "I would hope so. Women don't like smelling other women on their playthings. Speaking of which, have you cruised the weyrling class yet for any prospects? Or are you still hung up on your own?"

Rysta grins a little and nods to O'don. Looking to Crepe, she grins and watches the girl move to get food, then looks back to O'don. "Well, I didn't really know that. I'm going to have a lot to learn about dragons I can see." She smiles slightly at the next question and nods again. "Yes, that was my mum. She's…well, she wasn't too keen on all of this."

K'nex is the sort of interested where /he's/ taking inventory of all the exists? At least, the brownrider looks rather uncomfortable, shifting his gaze about as he grabs a drink and some munchies. Ooo, people.

X'ian glances to the candidates in question at that - the females in the bunch getting more of a lingering inspection than any of the males. "I can't say any have really…drawn my eye. Not to mention, none of them would be immediately available. Try to give me some credit if you will, Lis, but I have been making a concentrated effort to leave off on corrupting them until they've graduated."

"I'm jealous, Crepe," O'don tells the new brownrider with a wry grin. Then abruptly he develops a rather constipated expression. "Oh dear. Gwynegeth woke up. And she needs me there now." Without stopping to finish his juice or say goodbye (although he does take his meatroll), he scurries off towards the weyrling barracks.

John arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

O'don exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

"Oh, well, that's good of you." Lis flashed a bright smile at X'ian, throwing up at distraction as she attempts to step away from the hand on her hip. "Although it doesn't hurt to make a good impression early, so you'll be in mind when the greens go up."

Wyn pauses for a moment at Antonias' query, and parts with a startled but genuine bit of laughter. "K'nex? Oh goodness… no, no," she assures the healer, choosing to ignore the earlier 'weyrs' statement. "While I'm sure he'd be reassured by hearing about how much you respect me, and I'm curious to get to hear one of these sessions for myself, you have more to fear from his weyrmate Tatia than from him. K'nex!" she calls, giving a little wave. "I'd like you to meet Antonias, and you can now deliver your last 'I told you so', if you like."

X'ian allows his hand to slide reluctantly off Lis' hip as she steps away, his glare immediately redirected back up onto her face, his expression unreadable. "I'll make an effort to keep that in mind."

Rysta smiles as O'don runs off to care for his dragon. "I figure we'll all be doing that from time to time." She looks around and watches Crepe as she gets food. Drumming her finger over the table, she tries to decide what to do next.

Not bothering to quash this smirk, the bare curve of Antonias's lips turns more pleasant. "Ah, the ever-dreaded 'I told you so.' How positively pleasant. You can ask your brother for a rendition of the respect speech." He turns his attention to follow Wyn's wave, inclining his head in greeting as they near. Once in conversational distance, his greeting is simple, but polite: "Rider."

"Of course. Mind you, I'd keep an eye out when Gwynegeth goes up." And with that remark, Lis leaves X'ian to his own (de)vices, going to schmooze some more.

K'nex looks like a frightened animal as his name is called for a second, then drops the look as he realizes that it's only Wyn. Oh. Right. "Who's Antonias…," he begins then cuts off as he realizes and breaks into a grin. "Now, I wouldn't want to embarrass you, Wyn…" He trails off and mouths 'I told you so' at her with a wink before glancing over at the Healer. "Ah, hey. Uhm, Journeyman." Kez can be polite too, just..awkwardly so. "Attended the hatching then, huh?"

Today is not X'ian's day. Still, rather than slouch and brood within the confines of the living cavern, he turns to stride for the main exit out into the bowl.

"Yes, as my personal guest. Eitanex sat with us too, and was predictably excitable and chirpy." Wyn gives her auntly report on the brownrider's spawn. "Although at least he's intelligently excitable and chirpy. We'll not keep you from getting your food and escaping," she assures, "Since we're on our way our ourselves, but I thought you might want to meet the reason behind the 'I told you so's, and you can now report to Tatia that he's not an axe murderer."

X'ian exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

Javert blinks in from ::between::!

"Yes. Warm." Understating things with dry effect, Antonias looks just a trifle amused by K'nex's unease. He refrains from an immediate discussion of fascinating poisons, given Wyn's last words. He does, however, smirk. "Oh, never. That's rather too obvious and a bit messy, I would imagine." He nods again to K'nex, then murmurs to Wyn, questioningly, "Axe murderer? Really, my dear."

Rysta stands finally and moves over to get food, suddenly hungry. She grins at Crepe as she comes up toward her. "Well, now I'm hungry too." Getting food, she grins again and takes a bite of a meatroll before moving to her seat again and looking around the caverns.

K'nex smirks slightly and shakes his head. "That's…well, that's Eitan. I can't imagine where he gets it from." He, for one, was never chirpy. And he rather doubts Tatia was either. "Hm," he murmurs and raises his brows. "Ah, well, I'll report back that he isn't then, but if Wyn shows up /mysteriously/ dead, I'll know who to send the Wyn Squad after." He's teasing, mostly.

"It was the first implausible thing I could think of to apply to you, dear man." Wyn replies to Antonias in the same undertone, with a serenely mischievous smile. "Clearly, you'd probably murder someone by triggering some sort of death indistinguishable from natural causes." Such lovely, romantic discussion, mmm? Aloud, she merely gives K'nex a pleased look for the news that there's actually a Wyn Squad, asks "Enjoy the food, and give my regards to Tatia?" and then allows that "I think I'm about ready to go hide now."

Rysta gives a surprised look and quickly finishes her juice and meatroll. With a wave to the others, she hurries out of the caverns, a simple murmured, "I'm coming, Uli," for explanation to any who might actually be able to hear her.

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