Even Though Your Skies Are Blue {Gathering!}

[Kila]

Nearby, yet separated by the crowds, O’sho was yet unaware of Fajra’s presence. Had she been closer, he may have been alerted by the chill in the air that seemed to develop around her person when in his presence. Contrary to what some believed, he was certain that the atmosphere of a place could be influenced by only the people who were in it. Tension between two people, no doubt like the tension he had unfortunately created between himself and the Weyrwoman, could easily make the mood for everyone else on edge as well.

“No plans!”O’sho exclaimed in friendly surprise, putting forth a façade of shock. “But Nim, that will hardly do!” He turned to scan the crowd, lifting his hand to his eyes. “Excuse me! You- young sir!” he called out pleasantly to a boy who (conveniently) happened to be walking by carrying a stack of paper. The lad looked at him, bewildered. He had stains on his clothes and bags under his eyes; obviously he had had a long day. “Begging your pardon, but might I have a sheet of that paper? Thank you,” he said, sliding a sheet off the top as quick as could be. He winked at the boy and flipped a coin to him. “Don’t fret, m’lad, if your master notices that it’s missing just tell him that O’sho of Bronze Daidoroth had great need of it. Here’s a mark for its worth and your kindness nonetheless.” Clearly bewildered and more confused than before, the boy carried on his way.

“Here now, Nim, let’s make a list for you to do,” he continued on as if nothing had happened. The writing utensil was easier to come by, he had it on his person, so he pulled it out and held it before the paper with a flourish. “I’ll just put down the highlights of being a Gather-goer, and you can do as many of them as you like, if it so please you to do so. Hmmm, let’s see….;” he pondered, staring down at the blank paper as though the answers were hidden there. “You have to dance! Dancing is so much fun, quite a social activity, really. Maybe someone will even ask you and spare you the trouble of having to search for a partner. You should buy yourself something too: a snack, a knick-knack, a memento of sorts. You could watch a runner race, though I don’t know if I’d peg you as a betting gal…”

[Admin]

Consider this a warning,
Cause I'll start another fight,
And you'll say its all alright.

Fajra tensed when someone gripped her shoulder and whirled around at what she classified as 'attacker' and 'intruder' until her eyes met those of the well dressed man who dared to lay a hand on her. Face deadly calm, she was not taken with the seduction in his voice, his well dressed manner, or his reasonably attractive features. In fact, she was more put off on anything and stood on guard. She did not trust his overconfidence and his daring; his courtesy was obviously false as his face and his actions showed that he thought he was her equal. That idea was incorrect - she was superior to anyone but a powerful Lord Holder or another Sr. Weyrwoman or Weyrleader. That was where her rank set her.

Even when he took her hand and kissed it and then bowed, she didn't soften in the least, remaining tense and voice betraying nothing but curtness. He could try to dazzle her all he liked; she wasn't going to care in the slightest. It wasn't as if she fell over backwards every time a pretty, powerful boy bated his eyelashes at her. She certainly had the power to match anyone she needed to and it wasn't like she was unattractive. Framed in her perfectly tailored dress, she was certainly a sight standing there. Her red hair was flawlessly put up; her blue eyes were bright and sharp.

"Dalibor will protect anyone who needs our protection here on the Western Continent;" she replied curtly to his almost rhetorical question about whether it was her Weyr that protected him and his people. "Anyway, yes, I am Fajra, rider of copper Kalith, Sr. Weyrwoman of Dalibor Weyr;" she added. He had said his title; she said hers, voice cutting and icy. If he thought his audacity would gain him something, he was being warned. To add emphasis, Kalith turned away from her conversation on the cliffs and roared. On her shoulder, Afzal added his own, much smaller voice. "It's very nice to make your acquaintance;" she finished. Finally, a small smile touched her face and it was very confident.

This is a warning,
This is a warning,
This is a warning.

[Lan]

C'lin more than approved of P'nay decision of a baker stall... the man was a bloody genius. He had just been craving a couple of bubbly pies, in fact he had been looking forward to eating his fill at the Gather before drifting to sleep the night before. As much as he delighted in socializing and the drama that happened, there could be no denying of his affections for the delicious festival food as well. And bubbly pies were like... to put it simply, the greatest thing since Faranath's First Egg. The thought was almost sacrilegious, but by the First Shell it was true!

The coldness of the side P'nay had just occupied as replaced with warm as the baked good spilled over into his mouth and rose his temperature from the inside out. Yet he was not without his guard. This time C'lin foresaw the yellowrider's actions, but chose not to stop him. He swallowed his bite, let his hands full of bubbly pies linger at his side and inhaled deeply through his nose as the other man's lips pressed firm against his own. Shards, this boy moved fast. But the blackrider couldn't complain. It was... pleasurable. As he fondled the other rider's lips with his own, letting themselves be combined as one for the brief moment, he got a mixture of the taste of bubbly pie and some other, sweeter concoction. P'nay tasted an incredible combination of spice and sweetness and his smell had an earthy tone that blended well with the familiar scent of dragons that clung to each rider unwittingly. His heart felt like it had skipped between and, as his Gather 'friend' pulled away, C'lin half wanted to inspect the rest of his mouth and half wanted to punch him in the face.

'Are you enjoying your food?' Now that just pissed him off, although he wasn't really angry. How the shells and shards could he think of food now? It was impossible to enjoy any sort of food after a good snog. The entire thought was almost absurd. And P'nay had ruined two perfectly good bubbly pies for him -or would have if C'lin's appetite wasn't so strong.

'You're kidding, right?' C'lin scoffed incredulously, his voice raising in decibels and frequency, 'To between with the pies, what was that all about?' All the same, the blackrider hypocritically took another bite into his bubbly pie, grinned in good humor at momentarily noticing this well-placed hypocrisy, then added in an undertone that only P'nay could hear, 'Not that I'm complaining...'

Yet, in his head, an internal voice was screaming at him. What had he done? He'd kissed many a girl in his lifetime, and the occasional guy, but never like that... the kiss on the cheek was one thing, but this? And furthermore... he was okay with that? Had he become the kind of person who snogged every nice piece of flesh that came his way, whether in public or not? He had to admit it: he had. But he didn't care -and that worried him. Shouldn't he care? He could no longer tell. What he was certain of was that, although this young man meant nothing to him, at the same time his attentions had at this moment become everything. And such a place was a precarious position to be in.

Reyith closed his eyes momentarily as Annith returned the favor, allowing the information she shared to be processed through his own mind. She was cautious, both about her own rider and his. Before he could sense confusion the answer to any question he may have pondered came to him: she thought that His would be hurt by the caprice of Hers. What an odd position indeed! Often times the black dragon found himself thinking along the same lines for C'lin's momentary friends. His Own's bad humors came faster than firehead and his good humor lasted as long as southern weather during the stormy season. It was a combination that had resulted in a long trail of people who had been dragged along through C'lin's haphazard emotions and had been hurt severely in the process. It was sad to admit this, but Reyith had always been a logical sort of dragon. While he loved C'lin dearly, he would not deny the pain His Own's mood swings had caused.

The above he felt right to share with Annith, but only allowed his emotions toward the entire situation to be transferred to the yellow dragon, not the entire story behind them. He opened his eyes again and saw in her own traces of worry. While he wasn't sure about how the day would turn either, he was optimistic and not one to be taken by worry of future problems. He didn't like her worrying, as odd of an emotion as it was for the black dragon, and he decided to take her mind of it somehow, although in what way he would do this he didn't know. I am sure of it. He said decidedly, giving a final sort of snort to pronounce the topic finished. The black dragon then wrinkled his nose for the tickling sensation his last action had caused before settling into a calm, confidant bearing as he continued to gaze at the larger yellow dragon in front of him. His steady, blue eyes swirled at a gentle pace, radiating an overwhelming amount of peace and stillness of mind that had often calmed His Own down when he was anxious about something.

[Admin]

And isn't this exactly where you'd like me,
I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know,
Praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety.

P'nay tilted his head to the side as C'lin scoffed at his question, a confused and curious expression on his face despite the cocky smile remaining in place. For a moment, the grin was covered, and the confusions wore through, as he took another bite of his bubbly pies. The inquiry about his action only further put him off balance but relief flooded him when the blackrider, hypocritically to his statement, took another bit of his pie and then grinned with good humor. That was the only thing that really managed to get his heart fluttering, that smile after it had faded and the relief of it. Why did C'lin seem a little bit upset about his action? He was pretty sure that he hadn't been the only one enjoying and involved in the kiss. It certainly had been a good kiss. The flavor of the bother of them had been wonderful, but his mouth mainly tasted of bubbly pie. He'd been hoping for perhaps some more kisses soon enough that would wash away that flavor to the back good and properly.

When the quiet, private comment about the fact that C'lin didn't actually mind, he scrambled for words. "Uh." All of a sudden, he wasn't feeling as witty and sure as he usually pretended to be. He was knocked back towards the actuality of his feelings - confusion, desperation, an overwhelming sense of letting so many people down. In the center of it all stood one shaded figure in his mind but he didn't have to see who it was clearly to know who it was and kick up the remorse there - L'oren, the only person he'd really loved in a long time. As he swallowed his bite, he turned his gaze upwards, partially to just stare off into the distance and partially to hide fading of his smile as well as his overwhelmed expression. This wasn't turning to be out as simple as it normally was. Somehow, this blackrider had poked a hole in his shell self.

"It's called a 'kiss'. It's a way of showing affection." The confident, smug, flirty smile was back as he lowered his head back down to meet the other rider's gaze. Some holes were easy to patch up, especially when he was close to a way of being able to pretend that the gaping, spiraling, dark abyss of hole beneath his shell wasn't there at all. Company, even company that had managed to stir up old memories like the current one, helped to keep the loneliness and disappointment away. All it had taken was a moment to collect himself. "I can do it again, if you didn't get the idea;" he suggested, taking a step to close up the gape between the two of them. It brought their faces, and, most importantly, their lips, within inches of each other. He'd been afraid C'lin might want to break out this entire affair but he still had hope for the day. After all, the blackrider had said that he wasn't actually complaining about the little kiss; this was all still going fine.

Oh Faranath; he swore in his mind. Now that he was so close to C'lin again, close enough to be able to smell the musky odors of dragons off of him and the sweet smell of his breath, he had the strong urge to kiss him again no matter what he said. However, he knew he would just feel worse if he did that and that wasn't the thing to do. He was going to respect the blackrider's wishes; he wasn't a jerk like that, no matter how he might come off at times. Containing his feral urges, he kept his expression confident, his eyes bright, and his smile that wonderful mix of everything winning.

Annith allowed herself to be taken in by Reyith's soothing eyes; she allowed herself to be soothed by his words and actions. He said that he was sure that P'nay would be good for C'lin and that seemed to be the end of it. He seemed so calm and confident, and those eyes . . . They radiated such peace, swirling such a lovely blue colors at such a steady pace. Slowly, she just relaxed and settled down, letting her worries about her Mine and his new friend go. Ever trusting and optimistic, she felt no inclination to disbelieve what Reyith said; she felt utterly sure that that had to be exactly how things would work out. Both of them had problems, but that didn't mean that they couldn't do each other good. Everything would be fine. Her eyes lost their tinges of worried yellow, returning to simply being a cheerful, placid mix of green and blue.

Good; was the only response she gave to the black's final comment for what was a very long time for her, given that all she'd said was that one word. For a while, she was calm and unworried, just enjoying the sun and the day. However, she'd felt her rider's momentary lapse towards the sorts of depression like she had shown parts of to Reyith. He'd been thinking about L'oren, which made her think of her old friend, the rider's green, and that did nothing to calm her. Despite all her optimism, she could already see that things weren't going exactly wonderfully. Plus, she was curious, so she asked one question to Reyith. Her rider was already recovering from his lapse, after all, so it was no need to show the black exactly why she wasn't as placid as she had been for a few moments thanks to him. Has Yours ever been in love before?

Well, I'm afraid that I,
Well, that's right, well I may have faked it,
And I wouldn't be caught dead in this place.

[Kila]

“Well met, Fajra, I am very, very pleased to meet you acquaintance,” Duilios said with a grin. She was a fiery one- he liked it. He had expected no less from Dalibor’s Weyrwoman, for he had heard many a testament to her strength. She was not intimidated by him, he could easily see, but nor was he by her. Her frigid, unimpressed tone showed her as not easily swayed. Well, it wouldn’t be any fun if his charm, good looks, and power got him everything he wanted in life on the first go round. Just most of the first go rounds. Besides, she clearly commands and wields her power. Surely she has enough control that she may aid me in my endeavors….

“My lady, I dare to say that you look absolutely ravishing,” Duilios said, letting his eyes wander over her frame and linger briefly. He liked a woman with curves. “You are really quite beautiful.” It wasn’t just her looks that were appealing, either; it was the way in which she carried herself. Her confidence was very attractive. For one so associated with and compelled by power such as he, Duilios could easily recognize it others. He expected the people he owned to be subservient to him, of course, but if the people he pursued were not as able as he then they were surely not worth pursuing.

“May I implore you to walk with me so we might further our conversation,” he asked, offering her a strong arm. They would look handsome together gliding through the crowd- the epitome of beauty and power. He looked briefly towards the cliffs as Kalith unleashed a roar from her perch. There was clearly warning and displeasure in the sound.

The Western Lord Holder was not the only one who recognized the tone in the Queen’s voice. Daidoroth, below her, looked away from their conversation and to the action on the Gather square. He growled angrily at the impudence of the human that he witnessed towards Kalith’s. It was as though he was a young, overconfident King rider pushing himself on a female before flight. It was this very behavior that so easily wreaked havoc and tweaked his and O’sho’s usually solid nerves. Would you like me to bite his head off, Kalith? he asked menacingly, still bristling at such disrespect. He had no doubt that Kalith’s could take care of herself, for His was wary around her, but that thought was not at the forefront of his mind at the present time.

[Admin]

Talk about the weather,
Will you miss me ever?
Lately I'm obsessed,
And I need the rest.

Fajra was not at all pleased by his compliments of her beauty. She disliked the way his eyes wandered over her body and lingered more than was necessary. She didn't think it was necessary at all. The idea of slapping him came to mind; she wasn't someone to be ogled in the way that he was doing. However, slapping the Lord Holder would probably only make her life more difficult, so she refrained from doing so. "Thank you;" she replied politely. "You're quite handsome as well;" she added. Something in her voice simply told the truth of the comment - she would say it out of good manners, but it didn't mean express anything about her. Appearances weren't important to her; it was how useful and competent you were that mattered to her. She wasn't shallow.

When he offered her his arm and requested that they walk while they continued their conversation, she eyed it carefully but showed no sign of taking it. She wasn't with him in any way, shape, or form. There was no need for her to go about on his arm. She was a Weyrwoman, a dragonrider, proud and strong; it wasn't necessary for her to be ferried about on some attractive Lord's arm. It was much preferable to her to stand utterly solitary and on her own.

"Is there some reason you need to talk to me? I have other matters to attend to while I'm here, unfortunately;" she countered his request to continued talking carefully. Brisk and curt, it was all very sensible and truthful. She did have other business to get to while she was here at the gathering, part of her duties as a Weyrwoman. Part of her did enjoy having a reason with which she could duck out of dealing with the Lord Holder but it all fit with her rationality. He wasn't as important as other matters to her at the moment. None of her interest in leaving showed through either; she smiled politely at him and waited for his response patiently.

Kalith was bristling, standing up on her high perch like a teased feline in a cage. She hardly noticed that Daidoroth was growling with her slight hissing noise. When he spoke though, it actually helped to calm her, despite the aggressiveness of his voice and words. I think Mine would prefer it if you didn't. Harming the Lord Holder would only cause trouble. However, if someone was to interrupt them, I don't think she would mind so much; she replied to him, settling down. Hers was there, in her mind, ever calm and ever stable; it allowed her to calm herself.

I'll take another drink me, baby,
Slowly, I'll disappear,
And wear my life like a barbed wire necklace,
So let's play it truth or dare.

[Kila]

Encouraged both by Pratyba and the man who was surely the dragon’s rider, Sol came forward and laid a hand gently on Oveth. “Wow… that’s not at all what I thought it would feel like,” she murrmered to herself, letting her hand wander over the beautiful blue hide. It was cold and smooth, not at all scaly or unpleasant. Even though Oveth was not warm like a runner or like her canine had been, she could detect the beating of his heart and the slow but steady rise and fall of his breath. She rubbed Oveth with a newfound affection and appreciation. Other animals like being petted didn’t they?

Being so easily startled and hesitant as she had been since she approached was far beyond the boundaries of her character, but she was not ashamed. After all, she had never come close to one of Pern’s great protectors before and she was made cautious by her novelty to the entirety of Weyr culture and overall respect she now was feeling towards it. Sol almost fell over when Oveth addressed her directly, her hand faltering and he eyes widening with surprise. Never had anyone’s voice but her own been in her head, but even so, there was another one, greeting her happily. There had been no forced entry, which was puzzling, and it was not at all unpleasant. The voice had not only a sound, but a feeling. It was happy and reassuring. So, while she was initially shaken, she then began to grow a little more comfortable. This dragon, at least, did not seem to mind her curiosity and company.

“B’nyur, it’s nice to meet you,” Sol said when Oveth’s rider introduced himself after a few precautionary words about treating other dragons as such as she and Pratyba were doing now with the Blue. “My name is Sol,” she likewise introduced herself, bowing her head slightly with great respect. “I’m only a Baker’s Apprentice, run away with yon candidate friend to shirk my duties,” she admitted. Perhaps she shouldn’t be admitting to her follies. B’nyur was a rider, after all, and a Dragonhealer too. Surely he had a great deal of responsibility and may find her irresponsible for evading her own. But maybe not. She smiled in spite of herself. She was already enjoying her day and wouldn’t be stuck back in that stall for any amount of respect it garnered her.

“I do not have verbal diarrhea!” Sol protested, laughing at Sol’s comment nonetheless. It was potentially embarrassing, but she was in such good spirits now that it hardly bothered her. Besides, if B’nyur was to dislike her then she had already provided him with a reason. “You’re the chatterbox here! Don’t go trying to make it look like you aren’t,” she jousted, pushing Pratyba playfully. The two really did get along quite well, despite the small difference in turns between them. “It would be so amazing to Impress,” Sol agreed eagerly. “And to be Weyrling buddies! I can’t even imagine it. I can assure you that I’ll be trying to tonight in bed, though. Sleep is definitely out of the question.” Sol was clearly fated a night full of thoughts that had never been tangible to her before.

“What do you mean by that?” she demanded when Pratyba playfully but nevertheless suggested that she didn’t want to go to the Weyr. This, in turn, suggested to Sol that she wanted to stay at Crescent Hold and Bake her life away. It was something she could hardly joke about. “My dreams can reach as far as the oceans and as high as the sky,” she said defiantly, throwing back her hair and raising her chin. “Of course I’d love to go, and you know it, Pratyba! This place isn’t right for me, but I’ll stick it if I have to. I believe in myself, so don’t you think that it’s any shortcoming of mine that has kept me from thinking of putting myself in such a place.” Sol realized that her words may have come out sharp or harsh, so she quickly put on a smile to decorate her ruffled pride and feathers. “It would be a lot of fun, Pratyba,” she agreed, reinforcing her earlier answer. She winked. “I wish.”

[4horseshowgirl4]

Pratyba continued to run her hand over Oveth's well-oiled hide while Sol introduced herself to B'nyur. She let her thoughts wander for a moment. It was astounding, really, how kind Oveth was. Pratyba had only seen one other situation where dragons were so gentle, and that was Queen dragons with their eggs. Thankfully, she thought, Oveth didn't have the same vicious, protective instincts! Still, it wasn't hard to imagine the little Blue brooding over a clutch. She chuckled slightly at the thought. Again, thoughts of the rumored Threadfall leaped into her mind again. It was far easier to see Oveth dashing B'nyur around, soothing those that were Threadscored, rather than ferociously flaming Thread, she mused. A note of worry landed on her heart for a moment, but it quickly vanished. She really needed to leave the fretting to Fajra and the future Weyrleader!

At the word 'Candidate,' Pratyba snapped back to attention. At Sol's small joke and easy smile, Pratyba couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction. The Baker was, without a doubt, a thousand times happier than she had been just a candlemark earlier. Making people happy was Pratyba's purpose in life. At least, that's what she called her purpose in life because it sounded better than 'annoying the shards out of some people,' and those were pretty much the only two accomplishments of which she could boast. Well, she was a Candidate, but no one considered simply being Searched an accomplishment. It was nice enough now, of course, but the true achievement wouldn't occur, if it was to occur, until Hatching Day. And, then... oh, forget it. Pratyba made Sol happy, which made her happy. She was fairly good at what she did.

Her thoughts were again interrupted when Sol pushed her, simply as gentle retribution to Pratyba's earlier remark. Pratyba's left foot stepped back to catch her balance, and, in its Pratyba-like way, managed to find the only hole in the damp ground for several square yards, one made by Oveth's claw previously. Her leg crumpled from underneath her, and Pratyba toppled to the ground, landing first on her backside, her shoulders following suit.

The Candidate jumped up, quite unhurt, and brushed as much of the dewey bits of grass and bits of mud off of her Gathering dress as she could. Well, they didn't match the klah stains, but they would have to do.

"So-ool!" she pretended to pout, but the mischievous glint in her eyes was enough to throw off the act. "You know I'm a klutz! Ooh, you're going to pay for that!" Despite herself, Pratyba laughed, still absentmindedly trying to clean her clothing with her muddy hands, just creating more faint smears on her dress. "Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but I'll get you one day!" The threat was far from ominous, but, thankfully, Pratyba kept her hands to herself for the moment. The bit of prudence was rare for Pratyba, but, after all, she didn't know Sol all that well yet, and she didn't want to test the temper of her new friend by fouling what might be her only nice set of clothes. How much did Baker Apprentices earn? Pratyba wasn't sure. It was more than she did, but it couldn't be much, especially since Sol wasn't uneager to mock her own cooking skills.

Pratyba didn't disagree with the chatterbox comment (Sol was hardly the first to say such a thing to her), but she jumped on Sol's next few sentences. It was pep talk time! Hmm, but how could she put such fight in her words? Pratyba wasn't the type to debate or slyly persuade, but, of course... what better way than by song?

You should come to the Weyr
You'd be much happier than here!
There's naught for you at Crescent

She paused, thinking quickly. What rhymed with 'crescent'?

You can be a Candidate, 'cause you're an adolescent!
Or if you can't Impress,
It would still be for best,
You should learn a new trade,
'Cause you're not Baker-made!

Her voice was raucous and tumultuous, with her voice sliding crazily all over the register. However, she was surprisingly in tune, even if the rhythm of her on-the-spot song was rather interesting. She finished with her usual dramatic flourish, hands up and out in the air, and one leg kicked out to the side.

[4horseshowgirl4]

B'nyur felt a twinge of something that felt rather like guilt when Sol lightheartedly announced that she was only here because she'd left her post. He put rather high importance on his own reliability, especially in his work, and it didn't seem quite natural to him that one could discuss such things with such a careless air. Nonetheless, his own duties as a Dragonhealer were much more pressing than those of a stallkeeper, and if Sol shirked her duties, only she would suffer, whereas if B'nyur did, the dragons would.

Still, he couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the follies of the two friends. He was thinking poetically at the moment, and he couldn't help but think that the pair perfectly epitomized Gather friendship. A Weyrbrat and a Holder had become buddies despite the, ah... differences in thought that often separated the two groups from becoming intimate. He didn't say anything; he was merely content to hear their chatter. His mind would have continued to think about the situation, but he noticed that Oveth was also having deep thoughts. The sensation was sadly unusual to B'nyur, and he couldn't help but ask his dragon what was up.

{Oveth? What's troubling you?} B'nyur asked gently, interrupting his dragons thoughts and leaning back onto the Blue's sturdy chest. Oveth lowered his chin back to the top of B'nyur's head. She. That was all the Blue said. B'nyur took it that he meant Sol rather than Pratyba. When two shared minds for near twenty years, explicit names weren't always necessary. {What about her?} B'nyur looked at the main crowd of the Gather, avoiding landing his gaze on the two friends. He knew that it was a most unpleasant sensation to know that a dragon and 'rider pair were talking about you in their heads.

She is right. Oveth said simply, exhaling almost as if sighing. She will Stand for Kalith's children. B'nyur was startled-- he stood up hastily, which caused Oveth to throw his head slightly. {Really, Oveth?} As surely as the sky is blue! Oveth said, tapping his chin back on B'nyur's head to remind his 'Rider that he needed to stand still! It wasn't time to take Sol back to the Weyr yet! Silly Dragonhealer!

B'nyur smiled, placing his hand on the Blue's muzzle and rubbing it affectionately. Yes, Sol would make a good Candidate. Well, Oveth could claim a small, rare amount of glory if-- When! Oveth interjected-- Sol Impressed. B'nyur stood in silence for a few more moments, not quite motivated to tell Sol her future so soon. He would wait for a lull in their conversation, though, B'nyur thought with a guffaw, that was unlikely to happen anytime soon with Pratyba around. Even so, there was no harm in waiting a candlemark or two until the Gather began winding up, just to make sure that Oveth was sure in his choice. B'nyur didn't doubt the compassionate Blue, who was protesting to him that he needed to make Sol deliriously happy by telling her right now, but a bit of circumspect never harmed anybody, now, did it?

[/font]

[Kila]

“Why thank you,” Duilios replied to her appraisal of his appearance. The Western Lord Holder ran a hand over his perfectly smooth hair, pleased. Her words spoke truth, that he could detect, but any other undercurrents that were there he either didn’t catch or chose to ignore, focusing only on the positive implications.

When Fajra did not take his arm, Duilios raised a fine brow and looked down at it. Inspecting his sleeve, he brushed away any offending particles, though unseen, that might be there. He was unable to find any fault in himself or about his person. “Whatever is the matter, my lady?” he implored, smiling charmingly. Did she hesitate because she was intimidated by him? His position? His power? His dashingly good looks? These misconceptions only bolstered his smug confidence.

“Should I need a reason to talk to you?” he countered without missing a beat. “I admire your endeavor to build and lead the new Weyr. You are one to seize the opportunities presented to you. You are very strong to be doing this all on your own now.” He stepped closer to her and again offered his arm. “Allow me to offer you whatever assistance you may need. Surely you will need to know the terrain and the spread of population on the land; to where the smaller holds and farmers have spread. The new continent is not yet fully mapped, and as capable as you are, Weyrwoman, you cannot know everything,” he said gallantly. Though his words were enchanting and persuasive, there was a clear point behind them.

Back on the cliffs, Daidoroth fought to curb his anger. Yes, Yours of course would not be happy if the impudent man were to lose his head. He is lucky he is of some good standing to be able to act so towards her… I will not touch him…. But that doesn’t mean he will be allowed to continue. If someone were to interrupt them indeed!

Own; Daidoroth immediately bespoke of O’sho. Kalith’s is being hounded by the Lord Holder of Western. He has all the charms of a young rider before flight. Perhaps you should lend her a hand…

[Admin]

I've tripped again and things are starting to get interesting,
Don't give me choices cause I can't decide,
My mind is soaked in words.

Moron, idiot, deadglow. The insults prowled in the back of her mind as he oh so graciously accepted her compliment and spoke in that the smug way as he asked her what was wrong as she didn't take his arm. She was beginning to take offense to his actions but she tried to remain unaffected by them too. The only thing he was doing was being an overconfident Lord Holder; she couldn't afford to take offense to his stupid attempts to enamor her attention. Her face betrayed nothing; she remained as calm as could be and as cool as the northern wastes. All she had to do was deal with this reasonably.

Unfortunately for her attempts to keep from getting the strong urge to get even with Duilios, his speech about offering her help and his admiration for what he was doing did nothing to put him in her favor. It took her firm self control and detachment from actual distaste to keep from stepping away when he took a step closer to her. She enjoyed her person space. It was nice, a small pleasure for her to have when she tended to not care about much, and he was in her personal bubble! Still far from interested in taking his arm, she quickly, but easily, fell to the easiest reply - talking back, and there was nothing she could do from taking him to task.

"You need a reason because I am a very busy woman, Lord Holder Duilios;" she told him crisply. It was the truth; she didn't mean to offend him and it would be hard to take it as such, considering it was said in the way she usually spoke "I am more than happy to accept any assistance you can offer;" she continued, though she disliked using the word 'accept' given the current context. "However, a written report with some of the information you seem to be suggesting you have would be much more beneficial;" she finished. Then she eyes unfocused and she turned her head to look up at Kalith, who was speaking to her.

Do not worry, FajraMine. Help is on the way; the copper reassured her rider smugly, then quickly, and firmly, broke their connection. That made the Weyrwoman's attention go back to Duilios, but the Queen's attention went to Daidoroth. I'm glad he won't be continuing; she told the bronze. Another roar punctuated the air, perfectly timed with her rider's return to paying attention to her less than desirable company. This time it wasn't dangerous or a warning though; it was smug. This was her land, and he had already gotten his warning.

I'll wait for the day when you find I'm too much for you, baby,
So lay your hands over me,
And feel what you only see.

[Kila]

Duilios turned his head to gaze off at the cliffs as Fajra’s eyes unfocused. Though he had never lived in a Weyr nor had a dragon his own, he knew that the Weyrwoman must be communicating telepathically with her own bonded. Yes, the Western Lord Holder had meticulously done his research on dragonlore and weyrfolk behavior. What things he chose to ignore and undermine might have made him appear rash and unintelligent, but in reality it was just that he saw his goals in sharp clarity and worked towards them without looking back or to the sides. He studied Kalith and the mighty Bronze below her on the cliff as dragon and rider shared a brief exchange. Such power…. It was almost a shame that it should be wasted on a woman, no matter how strong. It was the Kings that interested him- their size, their power, their authority. They bonded to strong and noble people who weren’t afraid to lead, like himself. So in this next clutch, when Fajra’s Copper flew, would there be such an egg in the clutch? Would it help if the mother’s rider favored someone on or near the Sands? They would see.

Kalith’s roar did not intimidate him as Fajra’s attention returned to their conversation; it only made his determination stronger.

“I know, of course, that you are very busy, Weyrwoman, for I am a busy man myself. I sympathize with your situation, yet I am more than willing to make room in my schedule for you. It is important Weyr and Hold maintain steadfast communication through both calm and difficult times, and a professional yet friendly acquaintance or relationship would be key to doing this.” His fresh assault was surely no less tiring to Fajra, but as the ones before, also made a valid point. His arm still hovered steadily, easily available. He did not think twice about encroaching on others personal space, though he took it as rude and disrespectful if anyone disturbed his own.

“The information that you speak of, that I spoke of before, I incomplete,” he said dismissively with a wave of his hand. “The continent is left largely unexplored. I would happy, however to collaborate with you in mapping it in the future. It does, after all, need to be done. I will, however, compile a written report of what we do know and send it directly to you, my lady. With that, and as always, the offer of my assistance is open.”

As they spoke there was a sudden spike of activity in the Gather Square. The harpers, who had been arriving steadily throughout the day, had banded together and started to sing and play. A large reaction could be heard through the crowd, and people began to pair off and prepare to dance. Perfect! Duilios smiled charmingly. “A dance, fair Weyrwoman?”

[Kila]

Own… Daidoroth’s voice rumbled in O’sho’s head. His sudden summons of his rider came with the most unpleasing news. Neither dragon nor rider were easily ruffled, so the information that Fajra was being harassed went over as well for O’sho as it did for Daidoroth. It didn’t matter who it was- it was disrespectful, and disrespect towards any Weyrwoman of his was unacceptable.

Thank you for letting me know, Daido; he said, his minds voice steely. I will gladly point him in another direction.

“Nim,” he said, returning to his former conversation, “You will have to excuse me. Here is your list-“ He handed her the scrap of paper on which he had carefully scrawled the highlights of gather that she ought to accomplish while there. He smiled and gave her a quick bow. “I hope the rest of your day is very enjoyable. Go out and have some fun- enjoy the Gather!” He patted her warmly on the shoulder before departing. “I’ll see you around the Weyr, no doubt. It was charming to speak with you.”

Previous obligation of conversation done, O’sho dropped his smile and strode forward into the crowd, looking around for a glance of Fajra. She was certainly no damsel in distress, but she was most likely trapped in the company of her antagonist out of courtesy. He frowned, already anticipating the fake charm, the wheedling words, the fawning, the absolute smothering that was probably being forced upon her. Almost as if on cue with these unpleasant thoughts, O’sho felt the sharp stab of needle-like claws on his shoulder. Oblivion hunched down on his human perch and regarded the festivities around him sourly out of the corner of his eyes. The crippled black flitter seemed bitter that he had been left behind, but was clearly not enjoying being there either.

“Nice to see you, friend,” O’sho said, reaching up and stroking his head. Oblivion hissed and crouched down further, but allowed it to be done. “Don’t be like that, now,” the man said chidingly, a thought coming to him as he spoke. “I think I just might have a job for you…”

[Admin]

Just one last dance,
Before we say goodbye,
When we sway and turn round
Wnd round and round.

Fajra carefully kept herself composed as he started up with their less than enjoyable debate again as soon as she was paying him any mind again. Smile ever so slightly in that very polite way, eyes fixed on him attentively, body language alert but not tense, general attitude very curt but polite. Everything was careful school. It wasn't all that hard to her; it was how she normally was just out of habit and need. However, there was the prickling dislike towards him and she was growing tired as he continued to talk and make his point. There was that ever hovering arm as well, still trying to invite her to take it and walk with him. Still, she had to remain calm, no more aggressive than what could be described as icy. It was how she had to act, and how she had to show Afzal, half hidden by her neck, to act, so as not to have him attempt to be noble by assaulting the Lord Holder with his very nice sharp claws and teeth. The bronze firelizard was quiet now but a little bristly.

"A professional yet friendly acquaintance or relationship." When she heard those words, she filed them away and planned to make him hold himself to them. Of course, she didn't particularly like the idea, nor think she was capable, of having a friendly relationship with him. She was also fairly certain that could be taken in a way she didn't like the idea of. When he continued his talking by informing her that the information she had spoke of before was incomplete, she almost rolled her eyes. At least she appeared like she was going to get some information out of this. "Thank you;" she told him curtly when he repeated that his offer of assistance was open. The only good thing she could think about him still was that he wasn't useless, which did mean a bit to her. As long as she was careful, she could use his help. He was right, sadly; she did need to have good communication with her holds.

When the music started, Fajra looked towards it out of the corner of her eye. Seeing all the activity and the dancing slowly beginning to start up as smiling pairs fell into the square, she smiled faintly at the join of it. The faintness of the smile faded to one that was even less existent as focused on Duilios again and was graced with his charming smile again. He'd asked for a dance; it was going to be hard to refuse. He'd already displayed all of his logical arguments and she was tired of debating. This request, one voiced allowed, wasn't one she could politely refuse. "Of course, Lord Holder;" she replied to him, managing a very polite smile to go with the acceptance. Finally, she accepted his arm, resting her hand on it lightly so that he could lead her off to have his dance. Already, her mind begin to think forward to how to get out of having to dance with him anymore than just once tonight . . .

It feels like I'm drowning in salty water,
A few hours left 'til the sun's gonna rise,
Tomorrow will come an it's time to realize.

[Kila]

A triumphant smile couldn't help but flash across Duilios's face as Fajra finally relented. He watched with thinly-concealed smugness as she lightly rested her hand on his long-proffered arm. The Weyrwoman's hand was not the only thing that came into contact with his arm at that moment, however. So focused on his goal of bending her to his will, Duilios did not notice the small black blur hurtling towards him. His pleasure in Fajra's light touch was very quickly forgotten as a tiny set of claws latched to his sleeve and scratched at his skin. "What the shards-!" he roared, falling back a step and throwing out his arm violently. Looking down at his hitherto anonymous attacker, Duilios was confronted, nearly face to face, with a small firelizard that looked like it had flown through the Red Star and back. The flitter, no other than Oblivion, met the Lord Holders eyes with his own small, volatily whirring ones. His tattered, crooked wings were raised aggressively and his tiny, needle-like teeth bared at he let out a long, raspy hiss. Taken unprepared, Duilios could only stare down at the creature in disgusted shock for a few moments. It wasn't until Oblivion began to write upward and dug his talons into his arm with full force that Duilios reacted again. Roaring in pain and annoyance, he knocked Oblivious off of his arm roughly, sending the wretched flitter flying. Spiteful even in his parting, Oblivion managed to rip off part of the fancy sleeve and clutch the tattered scrap in his claws as he went.

"What in Pern?" he growled under his breath, mentally regaining his composure with all due haste. "What a horrible, disgusting little thing," he commented, straightening up and inspecting his ripped sleeve with a frown. He was very upset by this, but fought not to show it. "It must have been a wild one, the vicious little beast," he said dismissively, loathing still detectable in his voice nonetheless. "But where were we? I believe a dance with you would be able to take my mind off of this offense," he maintained, again closing in the space between he and she.

"Ah, Fajra- there you are," a calm, mature voice intervened. Looking up sharply, Duilios saw an older man gently prating his way through a nearby throng of crowd and approaching them at an easy walk. His eyes narrowed sharply and he immediately became wary when he saw the firelizard that the man held carefully in his arms. Did that grotesque thing belong to him?

"Pardon me, sir," Duilios spoke curtly, "Is that your creature?" If it were then he would have someone to hold responsible for his tattered splendor. And placing blame was one thing that the Lord Holder did quite well.

"Why yes," O'sho replied without hesitation, unabashed by the unpleasant airs that were being directed at him already. "As a matter of fact I just had to catch him in the air like a sports thing. I'd appreciate it, sir," he said, looking at him meaningfully, "If you didn't torment my friends." He did not say this threateningly or in any way mean, rather almost in a provocatively friendly way. O'sho had in no way admitted that he knew of what his little grim had been up to, but his eyes told a different story. And 'friends' also alluded to the torment he had been inflicting before he'd come along. He spoke it as a sort of request, but the connotation held authority and warning behind it.

Through with the Lord Holder, O'sho turned his back to him and addressed the Weyrwoman. His tone for her was lighter and friendly, yet far more respectful and always imploring rather than commanding. "Fajra," he addressed her with a small smile. "I've been looking all over the Gather Square for you. The Lord Holder of Crescent was asking for you and some Weyr business has come up." He held her eyes as he spoke, his voice natural, but his eyes offering her the escape he was weaving out of air. "And you promised me the first dance of the day."

Duilios was in disbelief at that someone would treat him such as this unmarked stranger just had. He spoke to him with no respect and had the audacity to turn his back to him! He contained his spluttering, for though he was a detestable man, he far from bumbling deadglow. After the incident with that wretched black bat he refused to lose his poise again. He looked for O'sho's knots as he glared piercingly at his back, finding none. This man was a no one! A drudge in the Weyr, perhaps? No, he was dressed to nice for that, but how dare he take such liberties of familiarity with the Weyrwoman! It was what HE was doing, what HE had the status to be allowed to do.

"Now see here, sirrah," he cut in smoothly, slipping in between O'sho and Fajra when he moved th take his place as her dance partner. "I'm afraid she just agreed to dance with me. And furthermore, that... thing of yours attacked my person not a few moments ago and ruined my attire. You will need to account for it and keep better tabs on it," he said with forced pleasantness.

At the mention of him, Oblivion twisted in his place against O'sho's chest and clawed his way up his arm, dragging himself onto his shoulder and wrapping his body and crooked tail around his neck. He had been slightly stunned from being thrown and caught, his paralysis relapsing momentarily, but was revived and spurred by the mutual hate directed towards him. He hissed and glowered murderously from under O'sho's hair.

[Kila]

She should have felt bad- she knew she should have felt bad- but she could do nothing but watch as Pratyba stumbled backwards, almost in slow motion, and tumbled to the ground, somehow catching her foot in a sinkhole that surely had not been there a moment before. She looked at Pratyba as she sat surprised on her butt for a moment and then burst out laughing, letting her hand stray off of Oveth so she could clutch her sides and lean forward in her mirth.

"Ah!- Oh Faranath- I'm so sorry- Pratyba- where did that sink hole come from- oh- hahaha!" Fortunately, her friend was up in a flash a brushing herself off, clearly not upset. Pratyba didn't miss the chance to playfully complain about it, though, and threaten the revenge that she vowed would come; Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but some day. "Riiight. Sorry about your clothes, though," Sol apologized when she had contained her amusement down to a giggle. She hoped that she would see her new friend around again, for she was by far the most interesting person she had met at Crescent, but unless she somehow was smuggled off to the Weyr like they were playfully plotting, Sol knew that it may be a very very long time before she saw her again. Maybe even the next Gather- and those didn't happen often.

Pratyba just wasn't one to give up, though. Ignoring Sol's protests about past futile hopes and as though sensing Sol's thoughts, the candidate launched into song. Sol laughed again as she was serenaded. It was just her kind of humor- really really bad. Cheesy rhymes; what could be better. When Pratyba had finished dramatically Sol applauded. "Bravo! You should be a Harper, Pratyba, what talent! And such an elegant ending. I'm truly in awe."

It was just about then that Sol heard the music start up. The past events had put her in an amazing mood and she was high on life. She loved to dance, and was actually quite decent at it, so the instruments and jovial voices of the Harpers were like a siren's song to her eager, attentive ears. "The music is starting," she breathed, stating the obvious. "Want to go dance, Pratyba? Oh, let's go!" she said excitedly. "B'nyur, do you dance? Would you like to come with us?" she asked, turning to him with a big smile. She was oblivious to the conversation that had been going on between him and Oveth. "And thank you so much for letting me meet Oveth," she added softly, her gratitude shining from every inch of her face. She reached out and stroked the Blue's hide admiringly as she waited for B'nyur's answer.

[Admin]

I have a knack for perceving things,
I can see how it sounds,
I can feel how it sings,
When you paint me an image of who you are,
I know it's the best by far.

If his smugness becomes more obvious, I am going to smack him for being an insolent little wherry's behind; Fajra thought to herself. It was a zealous thought, on her part. The last thing she wanted to do was be toted around on the arm with a smug Lord Holder though. Still, she smiled pleasantly and allowed him to lead her towards the square. She paid more attention to her surroundings then he did, however, and got fair warning of the approach of the black form from Afzal. When the firelizard attacked, she only used his stumbling steps as an excuse to release his arm. Either she, nor her bronze firelizard, had much motivation to help him. They watched it as he lost all dignity, swearing and losing a part of his sleeve as Oblivion sunk in his talons and flailed his arm about to dislodged the crippled creature, sending it flying.

When he tried to regain his composure and insulted the flitter, Afzal hissed. Oblivion was brother, not totally right in the mind, but just misunderstood. Insulting ones enemy was not the proper way to deal with this, in the bronze's opinion, and his bonded didn't like the slithering man either. The slithering man was like a tunnelsnake; he would steal eggs if you weren't careful. Remaining utterly calm, unfazed by the attack and unfazed by Duilios, Fajra disguised her dislike as he closed the distance between them again, reminding her of their promised dance. She kept Afzal from striking at the Lord Holder himself and he clung to her. Perhaps she could suggest that he have his scratches tended too? That would at least buy her more time. Kalith had said, very smugly, that help was coming . . .

Then O'sho was about, toting the crippled black. Right, he had a firelizard; that firelizard. Kalith had been talking to Daidoroth. This was going fabulously. She was going to be saved by someone she didn't particularly like either. In the mental list of people who owed her, Duilios was ahead of O'sho though, which meant she partially compartmentalized her issues with him. At first, she resisted the urge to stare poignantly at the bronzerider, not trusting the innocence of his firelizard attacking Duilios. She lost the battle and glared at him when he, slightly suggestively, told the Lord Holder not to torment his friends. Since she wasn't exactly in the best of moods, she wasn't feeling gratefulness towards anyone. She'd have to thank him anyway . . . later. When he turned towards her and wove his tale, her eyes softened slightly but she raised one of her eyebrows. It was so comforting to know that he was such a wonderful liar; she'd have to remember these little details for later.

And then Duilios was stepping forward, trying to assert himself as somehow being associated with her. He allowed himself to try to defeat O'sho's claim (which she didn't remember being real but she supposed it was just a useful part of his tale) to her first dance. So what did she do when the Lord Holder finished talking? She took a step back from both of them, fire in her blue eyes, standing firm and strong - away from both of them. "Duilios, this is O'sho, rider of bronze Daidoroth. He leads the Dawn Wing at Dalibor. He appears to have forgotten his knots. O'sho, this is Duilios, Lord Holder of Western;" she introduced the two of them to each other. They were both going down. O'sho would come up with the score, in her mind, relatively even, as payment for him 'saving' her. She would still dislike Duilios; he was so easy for her to dislike, which was saying something, since she preferred to stay neutral.

"O'sho claimed my first dance; it slipped my mind amongst more important matters. I have said I've danced with you, Duilios, so I will, but I don't know when." She didn't allow distaste at the thought of dancing with the Lord Holder color her voice. "Anyway, it would appear that there is someone else looking for me, at least as important as you are and O'sho says there are Weyr matters to attend to, so I won't be dancing yet. Duty comes first, so, farewell for now." The larger part of her voice made it sound like she was scolding them. She did think they were both acting silly, over different things and in different ways. It didn't matter that they were both older than her. Duilios was disrespectful and had no claim to her like the one that he was trying to make. O'sho was her rescuer, barely, but he had no need to be protective of her and he wasn't her friend. He had no claim to her either, and he'd forgotten his knots, which was bad and forgetful. He was supposed to representing the Weyr, knots and all.

Done speaking, she stepped forward, around Duilios so that she could place her hand on O'sho's arm firmly. Lips pursed, she didn't look as if she was interested in saying another word. It had been a trying day so far and, even for her, it meant her nerves were a little frayed, to say the least. He'd said there was business to attend to and another Lord Holder to see. Most of her bet that there wasn't anything of that sort but she still expected that the bronzerider would be leading her away. Despite her scolding words, her face was now passive and pleasant as ever. Well, except for her eyes. They were such a distinct and expressive part of her face. She was feeling tense and it showed in a brightness in her crystalline eyes. It was not the moment to mess with her; she wasn't nearly as cold as she normally was.

So, don't, don't, don't mess my hair,
If all you do is fake it,
Don't, don't, don't say you care,
Cause I could never shake it,
Don't, don't, don't mess with me,
Don't, don't, don't mess with me.

[4horseshowgirl4]

B'nyur was caught a bit off guard when the conversation returned to him so quickly. His mind had been wandering a little bit-- wandering around Oveth's, at least-- and he had still been pondering how was the best way to tell Sol that she had been selected for the coveted, gloriously upheld position as Candidate. Was it better to tell her now, or wait until it was time to leave? He had just decided on the former, so she would have enough time to talk to her family about it and pack her things before it was time to leave.

"Sorry?" B'nyur said, alert again. They invited you to dance! Oveth supplied helpfully. B'nyur brightened. "Why, yes, I'd love to dance with you two, though I'm not sure how injured we'll all be at the end of it," he teased, shooting an accusing glance at Pratyba. "By the first egg, it took them long enough for the Harpers to get started up, we might as well enjoy it while they're finally playing!"

Have fun, YurMine! Oveth quipped cheerfully, settling down first onto his haunches, and then onto his belly as His retreated. The sun was getting stronger and warmer, and Oveth's dark blue hide absorbed the rays like a sponge to water. He was feeling quite warm and dozy. Don't forget... Sol... Candidate... I'm sure... Oveth's thoughts to B'nyur were a few scattered phrases, but B'nyur understood his meaning clear as mountain stream water. He wouldn't forget to tell her, oh, no.

He offered both arms, one to each Candidate. "Shall we go?" he said, trying to act as gallantly as Dragonriders were supposed to. He was no lady-charming Bronzerider, but B'nyur was quite able to observe what social niceties he could.

He'd best break the news before they began to dance. "Sol? You're in luck. It seems that Oveth decided that you're a good person to Stand for Kalith's future clutch. Congratulations, you've been made a Candidate." He smiled warmly at her, sincerely glad for her. She and Pratyba had been, well, not quite planning, but dreaming of Standing together all day, and he was happy that he could have helped bring those dreams to fruit.

Ooc: Go ahead and post with Sol again if you want, Kila.

[/right]

[Kila]

O’sho could not hide his smile as Fajra stepped back with distaste and left him and Duilios to deal with one another. He just couldn’t win. Even when he tried to help she disliked him. It didn’t bother him, though. His aim was not to garner her affections: if they were to get along it would come about naturally, and he had no intention of pushing her. His devotion to acting loyally towards her was not because he fooled himself into believing that he had some kind of claim over her, but rather out of pride. He was proud to be part of Dalibor Weyr, and he respected the Weyrwoman for all that she did. He knew well that she was justly proud, and more than capable of defending herself, but such behavior on the part of the Lord Holder had incited him to act out nonetheless.

Fajra clearly refused to be in the middle of the two men, made evident when she removed herself from the situation at hand and introduced them to one another. ”Lord Holder Duilios, it is nice to meet you,” O’sho said graciously, bowing ever so slightly. The wry smile was still on his face, and rather than banish it from his face he passed it for pleasantries. ”Forgive me for not having my knots on my person; I am rather forgetful about them at times.”

Duilios had begun to protest when Fajra slipped away from them, but she gave him no time. The introductions were a shock to him and he cursed inwardly. He could have kicked himself, undignified as it was. King Riders were almost on an even ranking level with Lord Holders, such as himself, and here he had made a deadglow of himself by treating this O’sho as though he were a no one. Shards! Damn the man! ”Nice to meet you too, Bronze Rider,” he said coldly, barely managing to sound convincingly polite. “O’sho,” the rider corrected cheerfully. Duilios glared at him. ”Of course.”

Fajra’s curt business-like words and manner stung Duilios. The Weyrwoman left no room in her statement for negotiation, and with her blasted reinforcement he could no longer bully his weight around. He set his jaw inconspicuously. And furthermore- she was speaking to him, to them both, as though he were a child who needed scolding! She said she would honor him a dance later and he stubbornly vowed that she would keep that promise. ”Very well,” he said, reviving his suave voice and poise. ”I will see you later once your business has been resolved.”

”Splendid,”O’sho said as Fajra stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm. ”Until later, then, Sir.” And with that said he promptly turned and lead Fajra away into the crowd with ease. He did not look back, nor did he make eye contact with her as they walked away. Watching them disappear among the other bodies, Duilios seethed inwardly and outwardly, turning furiously and storming off. When he had his way he would be greater than both himself at the present and that wretched Bronze Rider combined. He would be both.

As soon as they were out of danger of being seen by the Lord Holder, O’sho gently let Fajra’s arm return to her side. ”Forgive me the interference, Fajra- Daidoroth and Kalith insisted,” he spoke. “I did hear in passing the Lord Holder of Crescent was looking for you, though I did not speak to him. Please do not be offended by my taking the liberty to tell him that I had the first dance reserved, I wanted only for you to have an option to decline him if you wished,” he explained of himself. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out something and gently took Fajra’s hand, placing the item hidden in his fist in her and closing her fingers over it. ”Enjoy the rest of the Gather, Fajra.” That done, he turned and melted back into the crowd from whence he had come.

[Admin]

Under the weight of your wings,
Should ever we meet on your side of your stereo,
I will pretend I know not of your thoughts,
And even the way that they mirror my own.

Fajra didn't look smug or relieved when Duilios conceded to let her go; it wasn't as if he had much of a choice. She just watched him, fierce blue eyes never leaving his face and seeing everything. O'sho said farewell to the Lord Holder and started to lead her off without another breath. She let him guide her away but she, unlike him, looked back at Duilios, watching him somberly as he seethed and stormed off in a huff. Yet, despite her cold expression, serious as could be, there was no sadness in it. She wasn't watching him with longing at their good-bye. She was simple watching him.

Hand released, it fell effortlessly back to side and her steady gaze fell on O'sho. She filed the information about the Crescent Lord Holder away in her mind and listened carefully to his words. There was something . . . different about her, for a moment or two, softer and less fierce or cold. She wasn't mad at him; she wasn't offended. As he finished his explanation, she opened her mouth to explain that to him as curtly as she could, but then he was taken her hand and placing something in it. Registering this, she lost her moment to speak and then he was gone, tell her the rest of the festivities. She didn't feel like calling after him; she didn't see the point. Lower her gaze, she stared down at her gently closed fist.

She could feel that it was cloth under her fingers. She didn't need to open them to know that and she couldn't see the point of whatever it was because of that. Still, she slowly opened up her fingers and stared at the torn, tattered bit of cloth that lay there. It was the same color and type as the fine material that Duilios had been wearing. That was sensible - it was a piece of his attire, the piece that Oblivion had torn off in his attack. After staring at it for a moment, she closed her hand around it again and looked up. She stared for a moment at where O'sho had disappeared into the crowd as people swirled around her unmoving form. Her expression was closed but she was obviously thinking about something.

Then she turned and was off into the crowd, looking up towards where Kalith perched and moving towards her. She tucked the scrap of cloth into her sash so she could have her hand rest normally at her side. She still wasn't quite sure of why she was keeping it; she just was. However, she knew that she was leaving because she was sure she could find some 'Weyr business' needed to take care of at the Weyr. She could arrange to meet the Crescent Lord Holder another time. This way she could avoid Duilios and dealing with him. Knowing that her rider was coming wordlessly, Kalith shifted her position on her perch and then took flight, effortlessly descending onto the ground to sit there to wait.

Don't you want to dance with Daidoroth's, Mine; the copper asked her innocently.
I believe his has already figured out that I don't; Fajra replied.
Well, at least he saved you from the Lord Holder, didn't he; her Queenly said smugly.
Yes, he did. You like Daidoroth, don't you? The Weyrwoman was curious.
I have utterly no preference; Kalith said coyly.
Meaning Kerath is fine but you want the big shiny bronze right now.
Exactly. The copper couldn't keep herself from being blunt. She didn't do coy.

And then Fajra was at her dragon's side, who crouched low to the ground. It made it easy for her to step on her knee and then slip herself up onto her back. Sitting sidesaddle so as not to mess up her dress, she wrapped a riding strap around her middle again, securing it. Muscles tensing then, Kalith launched herself into the air. She rose, graceful as ever, predator and beautiful and she knew it. High above the hold, she roared. One last remark of her and her rider's strength towards Duilios; one last chance for them all to look at her in the setting sun. Then her rider fixed an image of their home in her mind and she flew into between, disappearing instantaneously. The Weyrwoman and her Queen had left.

Fall away to the sound of my heart to your beat,
Melancholy and cool, kind of bitter sweet,
Love on repeat,
I'm echoing all your philosophies.

[Kila]

“Alright!” Sol cheered when B’nyur accepted her invitation to dance. The man had seemed rather startled when the conversation had suddenly lurched to include him in the equation and she had expected him to decline. He was, after all, hanging around with the dragons instead of mingling with other people at the Gather. Perhaps he was shy- she didn’t know his life. Either way, he had been kind and tolerant of her and seemed like a nice person in her book. “It certainly did that them forever to start the music, I thought they never would! Harpers are such unpredictable folk, though I love them dearly.” She smiled and nodded in agreement when he gently poked fun at Pratyba. “That’s a good point; I hadn’t even considered the repercussions from taking yon girl onto a dance floor. I may suffer more physical harm from this than I have in all my turns,” she chortled, joining in.

Sol was charmed and amused when B’nyur politely offered both her and Pratyba and arm to escort them to their dance. She loved it when men were gallant, even when they were only playing. “Thank you very much,” she said, accepting the invitation and linking her arm around his to rest her hand gently atop it. “We shall.” She shot a grin in Pratyba’s direction across the Rider’s chest. Walking arm and arm with a DragonRider, how thrilling. What would her father think? Shame it wasn’t a young, strapping rider who would fly her away and ravish her- or something of the sorts. Pratyba’s insistent idea of bringing her to the Weyr was creeping farther and farther into her mind. Though she fought bravely to keep it out, the hidden part of her heart that cried out joyously for this to be so riddled small holes in her resistance.

Hearing B’nyur call her name, she shook her head of its reveries and looked up to him. "Sol? You're in luck. It seems that Oveth decided that you're a good person to Stand for Kalith's future clutch. Congratulations, you've been made a Candidate." The words took a while to sink in. Oveth….. Kalith’s clutch…. Candidate…… me? She continued to look up at him curiously, her face imploring. Slowly, though, something began to bubble up inside her, though it did not at first show on her face. Her stomach filled with butterflies and her throat tightened and finally her face broke into a wide, hopeful smile that radiated about as much light as Pern’s sun. “Really, B’nyur!?” she practically burst out. “Really? Oh Faranth, are you serious? You’ll take me back with you?” The over-excited and bewildered girl looked over to her friend, back to B’nyur, and then almost burst into tears. She could tell from the look on his face that he meant it. She was going to be a candidate! And it was overwhelming. She freed her arm and fanned her face with both fluttering hands, holding in the little tears of joy that danced at the edge of her vision. “Yeah…. Yes! I want to do it, I want to go!” she said, recovering from the shock and firming up. All traces of tears gone, she smiled at them with uncontainable amount of excitement in her eyes. “Pratyba!”

[4horseshowgirl4]

Ooc: Oh, my gosh, Kila, I'm so sorry; I didn't realize that I hadn't replied. >.<

After the dancing was over, the Gathering slowly but surely began to wrap up. It was an almost intangible thing, a general sense that everyone was tired and wanted to go home. Fun was as exhausting as boredom, after all, and those that had spent the day working were even more fatigued. There were small bouts of activity that betrayed this general sense: stallkeepers began to pack their unsold goods away when potential customers weren't looking, the Harpers' music was much slower and softer, all but background noise now, and a general weariness slowed the steps of those who had moved with so much enthusiasm that morning. The important people, such as the Weyrwoman and the Lord Holder, had made their departures earlier.

B'nyur gestured to the two Candidates-- one of many sevendays, and one of barely a few candlemarks-- with a nod of his head, offering his arms again. "Oveth and I will give you a lift back home, you two," he said genially, extending his mind out to Oveth's to gently prod the sleeping dragon awake. {It's time to go, sleepyhead,} B'nyur said kindly to the Blue, who raised his head off of his lighter-blue knee a few inches. I'm awake! Oveth said, yawning widely and showing off his formidable-looking teeth, which seemed rather misplaced on such a amiable, gentle Blue.

Before he offered the two young women a leg-up onto the dragon, B'nyur played with his riding straps. He was fairly certain that Sol had never sat on a dragon before, as an Apprentice Baker, and he didn't trust Pratyba to stay on by herself. She'd had plenty of trouble keeping on her feet while dancing to confirm his suspicions. However, B'nyur didn't usually carry two additional people, as Oveth was capable, but certainly not big or strong, even for his color. His straps only had accomodations for one.

"Well, Pratyba, you hop up there in the front, and use the straps I usually use. Sol, get behind her, and use the passenger straps. I'll be in the back." With that, he quickly boosted Pratyba and Sol up onto Oveth, helped them secure their straps (Pratyba's needed quite a lot of adjusting), before he vaulted up behind them, settling himself in front of Oveth's wing joints, secure enough though he didn't have straps. "Get up now, Oveth," he said aloud to the dragon, mostly to give the two a warning of imminent takeoff.

The Blue took three ponderous steps before sweeping his wings down mightily and pushing off with his forelegs, leaping several feet into the air. It took him several strong pumps before he was steadily in the air, rising away, away from the Hold. B'nyur reminded Oveth not to follow the luxurious warm evening thermals and rise too far into the sky: he didn't want to frighten Sol if she was afraid of heights. He didn't want anyone passing out on his dragon, thank you very much. He healed dragons, not humans.

"Sol, we're going /between/ in a few moments," he said, warning the Candidate. "There's no warmth or air, but you're well-dressed, so you'll be fine. Hold your breath in three, two, one..." With that, Oveth blinked /between/ in his strange lurching way, as if it took the dragon more effort to get there than it did others. One moment, two... three, and they were back in the warm caresses of the evening air, high above the Weyrbowl. Oveth tucked his left wing by his side neatly, and they spiralled down tightly, skillfully, Oveth showing off what talent for flying he had.

"Hold on!" B'nyur said as Oveth hovered above the Bowl, moments from landing, though the two would be secure enough in their straps. B'nyur bounced slightly in his seat as Oveth took his usual rough, jostling landing, quite enough to rattle the Dragonhealer's bones. "Well, welcome to Dalibor, Sol! Oveth and I must be off, but I'm sure Pratyba will show you around all right." With that, he unfastened the girls, remounted Oveth, and flew off towards their weyr.

[/font]