Midnight Snack || Black Class Wherling Graduation

Or rather, not a snack at all, but a feast.

It was not of the splendor of a Queen dragon's hatching, but the excitement was still there. The food laid out on the tables was more intimate and homely, without the air of mass production about it. A survey had passed through the hands of the willing wherhandlers inquiring as to their favourite food, which was then given to the headwoman to see out. The feast, then, was highly personalized thanks to the small number of attendees. There was a leafy salad with a light vinaigrette for Obelir; Hester's precious custard; the tripe that Bri insisted on; medium-rare herdbeast steaks for Audren, and so on. Enough plates were set for every handler and handler-to-be, as well as a few extras for the insomniac food enthusiasts.

When everyone had settled, Audren ceased her pacing and light pleasantries to mount the podium. It had been dredged up from the depths of the storage rooms for this midnight occasion especially. She smiled from where she stood and looked at all thirty-five of the familiar, wherhandling faces. Perhaps it should have been thirty-nine - perhaps Delgar should not have died on the day of the Hatching, perhaps Thread should not have consumed Mokai and Nikan, perhaps Rethalt should not have transferred so soon, but she was grateful for that strong and promising thirty-five. She tucked her hair behind her ears and it sprung back out of place, but Audren began anyway.

"Black Class Wherlings," she said once the murmur of the crowd had died completely. "You have been acting as fully-fledged handlers already. The test last night was little more than a formality. I didn't really have any doubts about you.

"So I guess we'll just make it official. Welcome to the ranks of Dalibor's Wherhandlers." She beamed, satisfied with the short, no-nonsense nature of her speech. "Here," she said, lifting a carved wooden box from the table, "Are your new knots, Wherhandlers." As the new graduates shuffled into order as previously discussed, Audren pressed on excitedly. "I'd also like to congratulate Kalenna of gold Kalesk. Or warn her, maybe, as she is graduating straight into the position of Betahandler. You can thank Weyrwoman Fajra for that one, Kalenna." The redhandler stepped off the podium to the sound of applause muffled by the extra size of the hall. "Good luck to all of you." To each shoulder in line she affixed a new knot, and to each hand she offered a warm shake as a friend, and no longer as a teacher. To Kire, she gave a particular look - and the girl would know what it meant. Many a time they had talked about taking control of Kisk's few brain cells and Audren had made sure the girl knew she was only barely passing.

Eventually, everyone took their seats once more, and there was nothing important left for Audren to say by official standards. By the standards of the hungry, though, it was an entirely different matter. "Feast time," she grinned, and tucked in.