Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Jan 20, 2014 2:18:43 GMT -8
Slinesteth was surprised by the energy jolt that flashed through him when Alineshith nuzzled against his chest. Not that he disliked it, just that it had taken him off-guard. He crooned to her, edging half a step closer.
It is good, that you are where your Rider is happy. For myself, the far North has something, intense about it. Even when there is a lull in the conflict, the great game abounds, and all the more fun, that the prices are higher than mere dishonor.
As he spoke, Slinesteth’s eyes acquired a deep blue hue, their swirling approaching dizzying speeds. He loved the excitement, the challenge of the game of politics and conflict.
Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Jan 20, 2014 2:28:25 GMT -8
Unfortunately, there were disadvantages to dancing with an experienced and skilled partner. One of which was that you never expected them to put a foot wrong. T’kar came out of a spin as the song drew to a close, already starting to shift into position to catch Lithena at the end of her spin, and tripped over her foot, which was somehow most emphatically not where it should be.
T’kar tried to regain his balance, but he was tired, and trip had happened with no warning at all. He fell flat on his rump, though he managed to catch himself on a hand rather than falling all the way onto his back.
“What…?” he started, his eyes finding Lithena in an instinctive check to confirm that she was alright.
Kashpa laughed. Her laugh was not some wimpy little titter, or a rich musical one. It was supported, and thick, and held all her amusement in it. “Well that sounds about right.” She would probably dislike the constant cold, even if there were other things she might like about Ice Stone. If she went, of course.
“Oh there has been plenty of stuff to keep tongues wagging.” Upon his question though, she chuckled. “I seriously doubt the Weyrwoman was in any danger. The Headwoman trouble, yeah, okay, rough stuff for us mere mortals. But everyone came together wonderfully, and her job is being done by all manner of hard working folk. The Weyrwoman though? I think that there was a reason they did what they did, and I don’t think it has anything to do with her.” Leave Kashpa alone too long and she started to try and reason out what was going on, even if she didn’t have any evidence. She had been in Cliffside, the entire time it was all going down, which meant all of her information was second hand at best.
“Still, I am sure there might be…some…” She paused and frowned, slowing the dance as the Weyrleader hit the floor. Something in the back of her mind tickled. The little gossip bug part. Hmm.
A soft purr rumbled in Alineshith's throat, surprised herself at the level of affection that she and Slinesteth were both showing. This wasn't the sort of thing that new friends did, although it did feel very nice to do. Chatorth had never paid this sort of attention to her -- although, they hadn't seen each other since their time in the jungle.
Maybe it was a good thing that she was making new friends. The Chrome was certainly engaging.
The enthusiasm in his voice excited her. It was always nice to talk to someone who enjoyed the conversation -- if only she could get him talking about music! Perhaps sometime soon. She would like to hear him sing one day.
You Northerners are a very fierce, proud lot, she agreed. From the way he spoke about his home, it certainly seemed that the ice Weyr was half wild and high-reaching in their ambitions. They were not the laid back Southerners she was used to, that much was true. But it was a new world, and one she had no experience in, so perhaps it was all the better that there was such a game they played.
It was better than dealing with the sneaking tunnelsnakes they had here at Rainbow Mists. At least their harbingers of change had a face. I have never been very good with games of chance, but I do understand what you mean about the thrill of the chase, and seeing how far one can go in their pursuits. It makes me think of my music and songs,although I know that they are not the same thing.
Had she been drinking, Orabel was certain she would have spit out her drink from laughing so hard. She couldn't help it -- it was a reaction to the unexpected -- and seeing T'kar fall was certainly unexpected. He was such a good dancer, it was strange to see him bested!
(Although it reassured her that her own dance skills weren't the worst ever; if T'kar could mess up, then there was hope for her still!)
She recovered quickly, and placed her free hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. Had Alineshith been present, Orabel knew she would have chastised her for "impertinence", as her dragon called it -- and she would have been right; it was a bit rude to laugh at the Weyrleader.
She tried not to smile when he fell. She did anyway. She could feel the eyes turning to them. It was a sense she had, like how to find good parties and the best drink. Lithena relished attention. This time was different. There was a new purpose for it this evening as the new Turn approached with racing speed.
"Oh, sorry," she replied to his inquiry and reached with a hand to help him up, with the intent of shoving him right back to the ground. She tensed. She wasn't stronger than him, but surprise was a powerful tactic. It had already worked to send him to the ground once. The words 'Not sorry' tingled on her lips, waiting to be released with others.
Evaine had been shopping, given her marks to spare. Most of the marks ended up going to pies. Not for her, but for all the kids running around.
By the time she had managed to part from the giant group of children that had flocked around her - "Goodbye, Evaine!" "Bye, Evaine!" "We'll miss you!" "Thank you!" - she returned to the main chunk of people. There was Lithena, and Kashpa, and Orabel-
-Orabel! A grin flashed over Evaine's face and she wiggled her way through the crowd. "Orabel!"
On the edge of the crowd and the party, Chatorth frowned. That meant Alineshith was nearby. Ugh.
Not one to let her plans be so easily brushed off, Lithena recalculated. Deviousness wasn't particularly her strong suit, so she merely landed on the nearest possible option. She wasn't likely to shove him down, so she launched a sweeping kick at T'kar's feet. It couldn't just be an accident. The crowd had to know she meant him ill. He had caused her sister so much suffering. He would be made to know it.
It was a rather ugly thing for such a pretty young girl to dwell on.
Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Feb 5, 2014 16:12:37 GMT -8
T’kar was not even halfway up, still precariously balanced, his weight not properly centered, when his feet were swept out from under him, landing him flat on his butt. Star squawked, beating his wings to pull away from the suddenly moved shoulder he’d been about to settle on as T’kar, startled, gaped up at Lithena.
T’vax paused along with Kashpa, staring at the Weyrleader as a few chuckles broke out. The man started to stand up then, and T’vax breathed a quiet relieved sigh, no harm done then. No sooner had he finished the thought, the Weyrleader was down again, dumped on his butt, his feet swept out from under him. Without realizing it, he lowered his shields slightly, sharing the scene with those dragons present.
Slinesteth started to say something, but even he never found out what it would have been. Instead, there in his mind, clear as only pictures from His could be, was the Weyrleader of RMW, dropping to the dance floor, his legs swept out from under him.
"That's for my sister!" Lithena spat. The rage built up from months of being unable to help Rilora poured out in a matter of seconds. The arch to her posture portrayed her hostility as well as words. A disgusted expression on her face she wheeled on one heel and left him to his fate, blending into the sway of the crowd as she fled. He could not, should not protest his condition. It had been well earned. As for herself, she believed a drink was in order.
Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Feb 5, 2014 16:39:45 GMT -8
T’kar was completely silent, staring after Lithena as she stalked away. His forelock of hair hung in front of his face, dripping with sweat from the dancing, the dancing that he’d dared to hope meant maybe, perhaps, he was making progress with Rilora. All for naught. Lithena had made that almost brutally clear, and all he was left with was silence, and a sort of pain, all the stronger for having been dimmed by hope. He opened his mouth, about to call after Lithena, then closed it again with an angry snap.
He shoved himself upright and stalked away from the floor, his Crimson firelizard trailing after him in confusion.
“Come on Star. Let’s go find a drink.”
Drinking didn’t help. He knew that, but just this once, he didn’t care. He had never felt this way about a breakup before. Of course, they’d all been civil breakups, more like a gradual drifting apart than this sudden bleeding rift in his core. This was different, and the real reason — which he was in no way going to admit, not yet — was that he’d felt more for Rilora than he’d believed possible.
Since finding out her condition, Dalonia had dreaded this moment; she couldn't fit into her own clothing. Nevermind that she could easily have terminated the pregnancy; any number of dragonriders would've helped her. It was a sore spot that wasn't likely to go away any time soon. Any person would argue that Dalonia Jindarex was no fit mother; she was prone to violent outbursts--especially towards the harried father of the unborn child--and far too uncompromising to be a nurturing mother. There were parts of her that even agreed with those assumptions but at the same time, nothing on Pern would make her give up this child.
The evening had started out as well as could be expected. Training was made a bit more difficult by the fact that she couldn't wear proper clothing much any more. It was either cloth pants that were too large and tangled her legs or--off all the awful things--dresses. She didn't do well with dresses and to make matters worse, the weyr was choked with smoke and the child in her belly never seemed to be content. Always moving and making her sick and making her eat and not letting her sleep. And the emotions.
It had initially been a legitimate reason that she'd gone to see T'kar about. Something about supplies or what not--she also found herself forgetful as well. By the time she got up the stairs to T'kar's weyr though she couldn't remember why she was there and she was coughing and wheezing to boot. All it took was one look; one inquiry and she exploded. Not in her usual manner of course but one that involved tears and all hysterics.
Next thing she knew she'd been tucked into Ancalanath's saddle and piled with so many warmed blankets that she couldn't move. Now she was at Melisong Hold, in a dress at a festivity that she didn't much care to be it. Thief was perched on her shoulder and Pest was clinging to the back of her vest. She'd been lurking, a plate in hand at all times, picking at the food here and there and drinking wine as fast as she could get it, which given the crush of the crowd wasn't very often. Just when she could grab it from a passing serving drudge.
She'd commandeered a chair and was watching the dancers, in a mood that precariously straddled the border between content and disgruntled when she watched T'kar dance about with one of the girls from the weyr. When he was tripped, she snorted; that had been no accident and certainly when he fell again it was on purpose. Served the man right. While she only rarely felt the need to cause the Weyrleader physical harm, it didn't mean she didn't enjoy seeing others make a fool of him. He was too cocky by far. When he walked by, she set her plate in her lap and gave a devious smirk. "Nice moves, dragonrider."
Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Feb 21, 2014 18:14:40 GMT -8
…and what had possessed him that he’d brought Dalonia? Of course, she had been sobbing so hard he could hardly get any sense out of her.
Hardly? There was no hardly involved. She wasn’t making any sense at all.
T’kar cut Ancalanath off with a wordless mental snarl. One which he immediately felt guilty about. He shouldn’t take out his temper on the RR Flame; Ancalanath had nothing to do with why he was so upset.
“Why thank you,” he commented, with a slight bow to Dalonia, before continuing on to get a rather too large glass of wine. Red wine, he wasn’t in the mood for white. Of course, then he had to keep Wamarna from trying to drink it. None of his others liked the taste, but for whatever reason the young Dream would, if not prevented, slurp down at least half the glass. Wine acquired, he meandered back towards the floor, his eyes fixed on the Harpers. His sister wasn’t there yet, not in the front group anyway, but she should be there soon.