You've Gotta Eat Sometime. (Nia)

[RhiaBlack]

{desc=NOT SORRY. NEVER SORRY.}((Because we were lol'ing in the Cbox about it, and THREADS.))

N'tharon was a little tired of all the gossip and rumors. Even as much a mellow-mind as he was, and even as swept away in his work in the Lower Caverns as he tended to be, he heard things.

In the case of the rumors and gossip, he had seen things, too.

One of the rather malicious facts of being at a Gather was he had the penchant for seeing people he didn't normally see. Various Riders who, at any other time, he would have made no effort to interact with or encounter. And by that extension, see people do things that he wouldn't normally see. If not with his own eyes, then with Sintharith's, and the Black was more than apt at getting his smaller-than-most-dragons self into place to track down what his Bonded was intrigued with. Not so much -stalking-...Sintharith wasn't that type of Dragon, and N'tharon certainly didn't have the capacity to be that sharding creepy...but both were particularly mobile when not working or doing patrols.

As of recently, Sintharith had been keeping tabs of a sort on three different females His showed interest in - one of them was far too young for his tastes, but had garnered at least some degree of friendship with the often-maliciously-sarcastic Smith. The other two had no idea he was interested, and in that sense N'tharon found some measure of reprieve. Sintharith didn't give him any shells about that. It was the third, however, who Nel found himself remarkably intrigued by, and who Sintharith laughed incessantly about - yet never told anyone what His genuinely thought about her.

::She is not going to show, NelMine. She has probably eaten already. We are wasting time on a chance she has not, you haven't said anything to her. It is a hopeless quest, a Queenrider, let alone a Senior Weyrwoman would never choose a Blackrider, much as I'm sure you can try. If I chased her Gold, she would laugh in my face.::
::She has to eat sometime, Sintharith. With all these sharding rumors and all these people being needlessly malicious, because obviously they forgot where they came from, or that this Lord Holder has been paramount in dealing with the poisonings, I imagine a kind word would go a long way right now. I do not have to be intending to reach her bed in order to show my support.::
::I know how you think, MineDearestOwn, and I know how you are with women you fancy. Do not obsess over her. It isn't healthy.::
::Perhaps not, but a man can dream.::

Cheated. The world had resonated with the sound, cast off the word as if it were little better than Holdless among these ilk of Weyrfolk, Riders and non-Riders alike. The truth of the matter was, N'tharon didn't see anything by way of cheating in his book. The Lord Holder was to be heralded as a hero, given the situation - his antidote had served to more than likely save countless of the Weyr's Dragons from the Smokeweed poison that had claimed so many of them in the recent months. Frankly, he was more concerned that people were getting bent out of shape over something so absolutely pointless.

The Lord Holder had a Dragon, and one didn't get one of those willy-nilly. He knew what he was doing. He might not be well-versed in Weyr politics, but given how simple minded some of these sharding blowhards tended to be, it couldn't be that hard to pick up. They were dismissing him without so much as giving him a chance, and at the same time holding Avalle accountable for a choice her -dragon- made. At the end of the day, Callistath was a Gold. While she was bonded to Avalle, while they were soulmates, she was still a separate entity entirely. She could make decisions on her own, ones that Avalle would know of, but still be relatively powerless to stop at that point.

Apparently they all forgot what Flightlust was like. Had to be the case, it was the only thing to explain that sort of one-sided mentality. Made him wonder if they jumped to those same conclusions about everything else.

::Now, now, Mine. Let's not get arrogant about all this, shall we?::
::Sometimes I wonder if they do it simply to aggravate me, Sin.::
::I don't think half of them even know you to say anything.::
::Doesn't change the point. They're giving the guy a bad rap, and talking shells about Avalle, when she doesn't deserve it. If they put as much effort into work and trying to fix the issue as they do gossiping about it, we wouldn't have a problem, now would we.::

Sintharith's draconic shoulder-shrug matched his Bonded's, and N'tharon rubbed his freshly-shaven face with a yawn. The pair of them had only recently gotten up, and Sintharith had fed with little note from anything particular. N'tharon was tucked into a lean against one of the tables in the Dining Hall - half-sitting, half still standing on the edge. He hadn't started Forgework yet, so his black shirt, vest, pants and boots were still clean. Acetone chirped, alighting on the gathered mass of hair pulled behind his neck and gathered by a leather string. A pause of the mug of Klah against his lips, before Acetone got the hint and crawled around to His' shoulder. Perching there, he waited patiently.

Mug was almost full. It lacked a few mouthfuls. Beverages were a decent measure of conversation, he had found.

::What's the patrol listing say today.::
::Nothing for us. It's an off-day, MineOwn.::

With a nod, he hooked one ankle across the other, and sipped.
N'tharon was a patient man.
N'tharon had not always been so patient, but she was worth waiting on.

That was, if she showed up at all.

[Nia]

The Dining Hall was the last place Avalle wanted to be right now.

The whispers, the rumors, she could hear them all. Did they all think she couldn't? Not that the Senior Weyrwoman cared about what they thought. It just made it difficult to determine who was actually loyal to her. Though she did doubt that any of them would ever dare to rebel the way the renegades had. It was a stupid idea, especially with thread falling. It was all talk, so she didn't care. In the end, they were all her riders. They'd listen to her, and if not, then Avalle would just feed them to Callistath....

Speaking of feeding, you need to eat.

[/i] Her Gold responded, with that scolding tone that Avalle was so used to. Avalle had spent the night before skipping dinner to do work, as she was falling quite behind on all the things she had to deal with. Of course most of that was due to her dropping into a temporary coma of depression, but a few visits from friends had helped her out of that. Callistath in particular was grateful that Avalle wasn't shutting herself away anymore, but her rider's mood was still quite sour.

Walking with her head held high, Avalle walked through the Dining Hall to get herself some breakfast. Normally she just ended up skipping the meal altogether, she'd never really been a fan of eating immediately after waking up. Her usual breakfast was just a mug of klah she took back up to her room, but Callistath had insisted that she go actually get some real food in her. Avalle's stomach agreed.

Piling whatever they happened to be serving on a plate, Avalle thanked the kitchen staff and eyed the Dining Hall in front of her. It wasn't all that crowded, but there were still too many people around for her taste. Callistath was not going to let her go back to her room after getting her out, so she'd insisted that Avalle sit out somewhere in public and eat. Furrowing her brow in thought, Avalle finally chose a table that was rather empty other than a Blackrider.

N'tharon barely got a glance as Avalle sat down with her food. She was far enough away from him that she wouldn't have to ask if she could sit there or not, and besides, she was the Weyrwoman. She didn't have to ask. Avalle.[/i] The clear disapproval in Callistath's voice made Avalle glance back at the Blackrider. I will not stand for that. No matter what your position is, it does not give you the right to-[/i] Alright, alright.... A lecture from Callistath was really not what she needed right now. "I hope you don't mind if I sit here," she directed to N'tharon with a calm, dismissive tone.[/blockquote][/size]

[RhiaBlack]

Sintharith was surprised. Pleasantly, but surprised nevertheless. N'tharon hadn't honestly expected her to speak to him, let alone with any measure of acknowledgement - his knots signified what he was clearly enough. There was no doubt, and he didn't doubt that with how often he lingered in the Forges and away from the common places people inhabited to chat, that she probably didn't know who he was, either. It wouldn't have surprised him if not. He was used to being the shadow, not the light that cast it in the first place.

By Faranth she was pretty.

N'tharon sipped his Klah, doing his best to limit the initial stumble of his words at her presence. By all rights, she could send him away if the mood struck her. He had to get this right, but beyond any effects, Nel was anything but beat-around-the-bush.

"My lady, I am beyond any rights to have a qualm about it, even in the cold day between that I wouldn't."

Smooth move, smart guy.
You shut up. I don't need help.
You always need help.

N'tharon retained his lean, though he shifted his stance around with a measure of respect for both her rank, as well as the fact it was the gentlemanly thing to do; reasonably facing her, he eyed her plate briefly. He'd been watching her passively, through the corner of his eye. She hadn't even bothered to look at him. He knew from what he'd heard and seen she had something of a stern and self-righteous sense of demeanor. That was all right. Most of the people he'd heard that from were the same ones who were saying she was to be held accountable, and he wasn't about to let other people sway him into an opinion he didn't want.

"Of all those in this Weyr I would expect to see eating breakfast solo, you certainly aren't one of them. I'd ask if everything's all right, but with the going rate of sharding shell-talk going on around here against you, I can probably only imagine. I think it's garbage, for the record. Nobody has any right to bad-mouth you like they have been. Were it not something I'm sure I'd get sent away for, I'd clock them a round or two and toss them in the forge for some of what I've heard."

Nel wasn't so bold as to sit down. Not yet. Far be it for her to ever seem intimidated from anyone, it wasn't foreign for him to realize some women just didn't like men that were all up in their faces. If she wanted to chat with him, he'd sit. Otherwise, he intended to tell her that he had her back, even if half the Weyr didn't, and leave it at that. Another sip of his Klah, and Acetone cheeped quietly at her in greeting.

"I continue to be surprised by the amount of runnerdung people seem consigned to throw around at the behest of your name. I really wish they'd stop. You're too honest, you work too hard, and you're far too respectable for people to talk about you like they do. With the number of people who have been doing just that, I wanted to run into you, and let you know that much as some would have you believe, you have more loyalty from those here than those that talk shards about you apparently think you do. I'm pretty sure you probably don't want to hear about any of it right now, but I thought that a kind word among a storm of sharding shells recently might at least put some of the shine back in that smile of yours. We see it so rarely lately, and it's a crime, really."

It wasn't so much flirting as honest talk. N'tharon disliked seeing any woman upset to a point of that level of sadness. She was the Weyrwoman, and in his mind, more people should be questioning what they could do to fix the issue, not prolong and encourage disputes and gossiping.

"I apologize if I ramble. Irritation at stupidity tends to make me angry, especially when it's not warranted."

[Nia]

The first words out of the Blackrider's mouth made Avalle crack a small smirk. She hadn't been addressed like that in quite some time, and his quick-to-respond nervousness was almost cute, if she'd been in a better mood. As of now, it simply got a smirk from her as she continued eating, though what he said next was enough to make her actually look up with a certain degree of shock. He was rambling, as she'd noticed people tended to around her, but for once Avalle found herself not minding. She certainly knew that her few friends remaining in the Weyr had her back, but for a random rider she'd never even spoken to before...? Well, it was certainly nice of him.

She abandoned her food for the moment, simply to watch and listen to N'tharon and he spoke. Her mouth perked up in a slight smirk again, though she quickly managed to cover her face with a mask of indifference again. No one had spoken so kindly of the work she did in a very long time, and it took her a bit off guard. She'd known there were still people who supported her in the Weyr, but for someone to so boldly tell her that they'd punch someone in the face in her name? Well, she was almost proud. She'd perhaps be even more proud if he were to actually do it... but as Weyrwoman she couldn't exactly advocate that kind of behavior. Still, remembering D'lios' black eye made her smile slightly again.

When the Blackrider was done speaking, Avalle glanced down at her food with a sort of wan smile on her face. She gave a small laugh, though it wasn't directed at his words, and more what the words meant to her. It was a good sign, at least. She looked up from her plate again. "It's fine," her tone was actually amused for once, and she gestured to the table, indicating for him to sit down.

A bit lost for words, Avalle thought for a moment before speaking again. "Thank you for your words" N'tharon

[/i] "N'tharon. I appreciate it." She didn't quite know what to say, after that, not sure if she should relax and act like herself, or keep trying to be a Weyrwoman. Which person did N'tharon really respect, then? The woman who'd punched D'lios in the face in a fit of anger, or the stern Weyrwoman who tried to keep the Weyr in order? Perhaps both.

"Unfortunately there's not much to smile about lately, much as I would like to...." she paused, picking up a piece of bread on her plate to chew on it and give herself time to think about what to say next. "How about instead of talking about all that nonsense, we just talk? Tell me about yourself, N'tharon. You seem like a kind and well-spoken man, but is that the real truth about you?" she settled on, with a bit of mischevious glint in her eyes. She was looking for an opening to allow herself to relax and discard her Weyrwoman demeanor, something she found got more difficult the older she got.[/blockquote][/size]

[RhiaBlack]

She knows my name. Sin, she knows my name, what do I say, what the shards do I--
Calm down, you dimglow. Of -course- she knows your name. By Faranth it's like you've forgotten everything. She's bonded to a Gold, remember? All she has to do is index your name from Hers. Relax. Sit down, for shell's sake, she's giving you the nod.

N'tharon slid into the seat opposite her, leaning on the table with his forearms. His mug of Klah was slid between his palms; thick, scarred, heavily calloused fingers wrapped the container, and though his expression looked kind enough, his eyes maintained that almost withdrawn darkness. Distance, evident in the way his feet went under the bench beneath him, though feet remained firmly on the floor. Prepared to evade her presence at the drop of a hat - or her will, whichever came first.

Acetone slithered down His' bicep, as he did usually when N'tharon sat anywhere, and perched properly on the table at His' elbow. If Nel was anything, it was iron-fisted when it came to his Black's behaviour - both of them.

One hand lifted to rub at the back of his neck, beneath the thick gather of his hair. He hadn't cut it in a while. Silently he cursed himself. He probably should have. Sintharith pressed him to calm down, but it was frustrating for him. Out of all the times he'd ever spoken to a woman, it was normally after a night or day of Flightlust, and there normally wasn't anything to say at all. Grab his clothes and get out, and then they came to find him when something happened. Suggested friends. Never family, though, not outside that one and her sister at Ista. The one with attachment issues. Nel shuddered inwardly, though none of it was visible from the outside.

"Well, that bit's a tad based on perspective. Most of those I meet, or that have met me, tend to consider me something of...how to put this a bit more proper than I'm sure it..."

Get it out, NelMine.

"...Sarcastic?" He laid his hands open to either side, almost a shrug, but not quite. "Sarcastic, bitter, crotchety, snide...let's see...what are some of the others...oh, hermit was always a good one. Angry, withdrawn, and a half-dozen other ones, some of them not fit for proper company, then again most of the good ones never are."

He sipped his Klah, hands once more settling around the mug. The stiffness in his back relaxed, albeit a small bit at that, but nevertheless he couldn't help but find her smile disarming. He didn't want to outright -flirt- with her; she warranted more respect than that, after all, but shard it...it was so hard not to.

"There's...not much else about me. I'm a Journeyman Smith, working on my Master knots eventually. Though, with Threadfall and all, that will be a ways off yet. I keep Black Sintharith, and this one here, Acetone. Though sometimes people debate if it's not the other way around."

Hesitation. He hesitated visibly, and swore again at himself mutely for letting it show, before he cleared his throat. Don't act like a sharding skitterling, N'tharon, she's probably used to people being scared of her. You're not scared of her. She's just the prettiest thing you've ever laid eyes on, is all. No, that's not terrifying at all, is it.
All the women you lay your eyes on are gorgeous, NelMine.
There has yet to be one who rides a Gold, the least of which I'm sure would be glad to see my head used as a means of amusement if I step the wrong way around her.

Sintharith was so amused at the idea it drew a crack of a smile from N'tharon's lips in mirror. He managed to limit it to a grin all the same, before peering towards Acetone.

"Admittedly, I don't socialize much. I like being out of the limelight, so to speak. Keep very much to myself, but I got tired of hearing things, and I saw you around. You looked sad, and far be it for me to let a woman who not only runs the place I work from and live, but one whose name tends to find my ears so well-regarded, be under the assumption that everyone loathes her. I know you probably had no idea who I was before now, but I...don't have the best reputation, so maybe it was for the best."

His jaw worked. To come clean, or not to come clean, such was the always volatile and ever-present question.

"I stay in the Lower Caverns when I'm not Threadfighting, patrolling, or in my weyr. I'm from Ista, not native to Dalibor. I left after some things happened there, people talked a bit too much and I found myself on the wrong side of a lot of people's personalities. Not so much a troublemaker, Sintharith just...doesn't tend to be careful with who he chases. So I made some enemies there. Was here for a time with my brother and sister, they died Threadfighting around the start. M'alygos and Yiserah, the pair of them. I went back to Ista for a little while, found out everyone that had a rather vicious streak for me was still there, and when we heard about the Plague, Sintharith decided that we needed to come back here. Been here ever since."

He drew a slow breath, though not once did he look away from her once he'd shifted his attention from his Firelizard. He sat forwards a bit more, though not enough to invade her personal space. Clearly focused, almost predatory in a way if he wasn't so afraid she'd send him off.

"I'm too smart for my own good, so I've been told. I don't look at things like most people do, I don't see them for shallow things, I see them for much more meaningful ones. Some people count it as a flaw, I tell them they're not looking far enough. There's more than one side to everyone, but most people don't care to look beyond face value. I'm a Smith, and a Rider. Both have a responsibility for attention to detail, but some people get it confused and think I'm maliciously picking people apart, when I'm not. It's not about picking people apart. It's about finding out what they're made of, without tearing them down." He sipped his Klah again. "Thankfully, a good portion of people here don't try to do that with me. Most of them probably wouldn't like what they find. What about you? What does the illustrious Senior Weyrwoman do in her spare time? Assuming you get any of that lately."