Come One, Come All (Everybody)

[Bacchante]

Come one, come all!
Collect the crops, prepare the feasts;
Lash your wares to runnerbeasts!

Come one, come all!
Strip your bulging pantries bare;
Everyone is waiting there!
Hurry now unto the Weyr...

The sound was heard across the island. Ghosts, by dint of their shape and size, have rather extraordinarily large lungs. When forty-odd of them stood on the sides of Skrull Mount and trumpeted with their full strength at the crack of dawn, everyone knew. They had been preparing for a long time now, but nobody on the isle knew when it would start save those inside the Weyr. Now all the holds were a frenzy of activity as people packed their things for the journey.

From the West, came the merchantmen of Skrull Island Hold in heavy wagons pulled by burdenbeasts, laden with wine and cloth and fish and meat and all manner of things. From the East came every herdsman of East Steppe Hold, leading their fattened flocks with them. Woolbearers would be sheared there, herdbeasts slaughtered for meat or their milk collected for the festival. To meet them came the mass of butchers and strippers of the East. Farmers came across their lands, from all directions, circling in from Ring Mount Hold's varied environs. They were laden with the mass of their crops, leaving none behind.

Inside the Weyr was no different, with doors of all sizes being unsealed and swept out. The passages of Skrull went deep indeed, and soon there was rooms freed up for hundreds of visitors. Including, on the Fourth Level, some for the best of the best. Above, for the first time in years, both Great Gates where spread wide open in preparation for the prestigious visitors soon to be arriving. Although, officially, the event didn't start until tomorrow there would still be joy and merriment this day. It was the day where everyone prepared themselves to let go in the three-day party that began as soon as the candidate's results for the Trail of Knowledge were posted.

All in all, people were still having a good time. Most people were, at any rate. There were, of course exceptions. The majority of candidates would be frantically studying for their final exam. It was rare that a person passed the test the first time through, so many would be taking the test for the second time. That was alright, though. There was no shame in it.

A loud thunk heralded the arrival of a knife into a board hung on the wall. It was succeeded by two more, at which point the scowling thrower went and gathered them up again. The blades were a pinnacle of art, thin and balanced to fly into the target with little to no spin. Carved on to the board was a crude but familiar likeness, crafted from a vivid memory of a single meeting and a detailed description. B'ach, Weyrleader of Skrull, threw first one knife and then the other. His father, leaning against the opposite wall, whistled appreciatively as they hit each eye of the rough woodcarving of D'myn, Weyrleader of Black Sands. "Rough night, son?"

As if in response, the third blade hit between the other two, snug in the hollow where nose met forehead. "You could say that. They're coming, father. The other Weyrleaders. I invited all of them, said they could bring as many guests as they wished. They should be here soon." B'rac laid his forehead in his palm for a moment. "This is the kind of thing you should probably inform me of in advance, you realize? Where will they be staying?" Leaving the blades where they were, B'ach strolled out of his office with his father following closely. "The guest suites, on this level. They've never been used, but there are enough of them."

That drew a look alright. Theoretically the laws allowed for visiting Weyrleaders to stay on the Fifth Level. It had never been put into practice. The last visit by a foreign Weyrleader had been centuries before either of them had been born, and the man had been in chains at the time. Apprehended for crimes against humanity and dragonkind. Both of which D'myn had been formally charged with, incidentally, and sentenced for. The fact that he had been unable to attend the trial had in no way lessened its importance, under the laws of Skrull. But that was besides the point.

Outside, Dark Blade Wing twisted and whirled through the skies. They showed off their flames, loaded as they were with Firestone, and seemed to disappear and reappear in the air as they performed daring aerobatics. It was a tradition, a way of easing the dull monotony of travel for the hordes of people streaming in from across the island.

B'ach was at the edge of the Shaft now and looking down it. Safety rails had been installed at all levels, save for open points clearly painted so as to show incoming dragons where to land. There was only one of these on the Fifth Level. At the bottom, on the Second Level, a wooden construction spanned the entire shaft. It was an artificial floor, being constructed for the day. There would be feasts and dancing and so on upon it. There were periodic holes, to allow light in from above and so people could look down on the various events below. This was the only time of year the Great Gates would remain open. Their most vulnerable moment. He was nervous, and understandably so.

Tonight, they had been invited to a feast. All of them. Dragons and riders. The Weyrleaders, a few Lord Holders both of Skrull and otherwise as well as his star pupils. Kendrik, Riki, Patron, Nebula, Rycage, Nwalme. Katya as well, most likely. It was going to be... Interesting. Especially with seating them all in a manner so as not to upset any of them. Eventually he decided on a compromise. Four quarter-circle tables. One for the Lord Holders, one for the mere riders, one for the candidates and one for the Weyrleaders and Weyrwoman. He made sure that Rileson was placed directly opposite him, of course, and that Riki was seated as far from him as possible.

The quarter-circle arrangement so was that the servers could walk between the tables in order to place food before them. All in all he was proud of if. The location, in what was normally the shared Wraithweyr, meant that all of their dragons would be able to come in as well. A rare occasion indeed. Some, perhaps, would need to be kept apart... At their rider's discretion, of course. That was later. Much later. For now he had prepared something rather more informal. The children wouldn't come until dinner time.

Around the edge of the railings had been set up a large number of chairs and tables. Drudges stood waiting with hot and cold refreshments as well as snacks. This was a time for arrival. For meeting and mingling. All B'ach could do was hope that it didn't end up going horribly, terribly wrong.

[pandoraMisfit]

“There are plants about the islands that, when utilised correctly and brewed down to the correct consistency, present a salve that can be used to numb the skin and which penetrates much more deeply than the traditional numbweed…” The words were murmured aloud as Nwalme read from the scroll before her, trying to cram as much knowledge of the healer profession into her mind as possible. It was a juggling act she tried to balance as well as she could – learning about healing, but also about the weyr. With the trial of Knowledge still not yet undertaken, any free time was taken to study. But unlike the other students – or what she thought the other students might be doing – she did not solely concentrate on what she needed to know for the trial of knowledge. Her healer training was still ongoing and as such, she felt as much effort needed to be put in there as for the trial. In her mind they were equally important.

Despite the fact that she was already awake and studying, the bugling of the entire Ghost population of the weyr was still enough to make Nwalme nearly jump out of her skin. Smothering a curse under her breath, she pointedly ignored the little smirk that graced Meliata’s face. The girl had grown exponentially more annoying over the past few weeks. As of yet, B’ach had not rescinded his order that the girl shadow Nwalme’s every movement and that was rather irksome. Several weeks into the healing stages, Nwalme’s arm was nowhere near the hindrance it had first been – now simply splinted, she had much more mobility and grace than when she had been ensconced in that bulky sling. Truth be told, Nwalme secretly thought that it was safe to take the splint off now as she felt no pain in the area and upon physical examination the bone seemed to have brought itself together cleanly and was well on its way to mending splendidly. However, it was up to Kaneh in the long run as she was the master healer and she said “Not yet.” But despite this, she still felt babied by her caretaker as though she were still an invalid in her chair by the fire. Not that she had ever been such in the first place.

The constant exposure to people had also had a somewhat adverse effect on her nerves. A known creature of solitude, Nwalme had taken to escaping every chance she had gotten, just to spend some decent time alone. Of course, the duration of these periods of respite were growing shorter and shorter each time, and Meliata clucked at her like a wherry hen for what seemed like hours after. Yes, it was a bit juvenile, but did these people not understand the need for privacy?

The noise was almost atrocious in its volume as it rebounded around the great shaft. Still ignoring the other girl, Nwalme rolled up her scroll s and put them underneath her little desk. Meliata was wittering away about the start of the festival in excited tones, whilst her charge packed her things away. There was little need, for right now they weren’t needed elsewhere, but the din of the Ghosts was a hindrance to her concentration, to say the least. She wouldn’t be surprised if the whole island chain could hear it – actually they probably could and that was the intention. At least the sound was enough to drown her babysitters’ voice out, even if for a little while. Feigning a wave of tiredness, Nwalme excused herself. It was only just dawn and having been studying for a few hours already, it was plausible that Nwalme would want to rest for a little while longer before anybody needed her. Retiring to her bed, Nwalme turned her back to the room, not tired, but grateful for the excuse – these last few hours of peace would be all she could muster in the coming days.

******

A short while later she rose to a knock on the door. Before she could rouse herself fully enough to answer, her ever present shadow was there in a flash, whispering a reply so as not to disturb the still ‘sleeping’ Nwalme. The girl scrunched up her face before swinging her legs off the cot to stride over to the door. Yes, it was more interaction but she wouldn’t stand for people thinking of her as lazy. As she crossed the room, she felt her usual mantle of frostiness fall over her face like a well worn comfort blanket. Meliata backed away from the door allowing Nwalme to see through – a messenger. “Oh a summons? Fifth level, tonight? I will be there, thank you.”Her voice held strong, lined with icy tones that indicated she didn’t need to be troubled further- she evidently had preparations to make. The messenger left and Nwalme closed the door with a sigh of relief.

Meliata on the other hand, looked bemused.

“Why do you do that?” Her voice was grating on Nwalme’s nerves again. The dark haired girl scowled as her ‘companion’ continued. “You can do the whole aloof thing all you want in public – I mean you turn into the ice queen or something - but when the attention is on you, you just fall to bits and turn into this meek shy little girl? I don’t get it! You want to have your say, but you turn into a stammering, uneasy little thing – don’t think I didn’t notice in the infirmary that time. But when you talk to Riki these days, you’re fine! And well, I think I’ve met the more acerbic end of your tongue a few times. I don’t get it, what gives?” Meliata’s monologue seemingly over, Nwalme huffed to herself. She walked back over to her chair and sat heavily, irritated once again.

“Meliata, do you ever stop asking questions?” she asked, exasperated. The girl in question merely retorted that this was exactly the kind of thing she was on about. Nwalme closed her eyes and stretched, trying to think of some errand to send the girl off on. But the question lodged itself in her mind, working its way in so she had no choice to think about it. She opened her eyes again and scowled. Meliata’s self-satisfied smirk meant she knew she had gotten to her. Nwalme spun on her chair to face the other girl before drawing a breath to reply. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard what happened to me back at ‘home’? No, well listen. I got hurt. My supposed ‘friends’ turned on me and made me the outcast. Do you think that leads to a person wanting to let more people in? No? That’s why I don’t talk to people. And when I do, especially when I feel like I’m being examined or I’m being put under pressure, I feel nervous and awkward because I spend most of my time trying to avoid exactly that situation. The only reason I can talk to yourself and Riki like this is because Riki, I see as a friend, and you? Well you’re always around and so I’ve had to accustom myself to you. Is that a good enough explanation for you?" The tirade had gotten a little out of hand and colour flushed the girl’s cheeks. At this point, Nwalme was actually shaking a little. It had been a while since she had let loose like that, but with the final trial looming close and the summons to the fifth level later that day, her emotions were running high.

Meliata seemed taken aback by this outburst. “I… see? Okay, now I’m genuinely sorry I asked, truly I am. You shouldn’t get upset.” She wisely kept her distance. Anybody else and she would have encircled them in her arms to comfort, but having been around Nwalme for the past few weeks, she didn’t think that was the best idea. Tentatively, she spoke again. “Though maybe, don’t you think it’s time to leave that behind? We at Skrull work together, not against one another, despite what rumours may be flying about. Sure, I know you’re a quiet girl anyway, but maybe you don’t need the shields anymore?” Her voice was soft as though talking to a scared animal. She meant well, but Nwalme had noticed this fact and resented it a little. “You know what Meliata? You might be right. But don’t you think it’s my choice at the end of the day?” Her voice cracked a little as she spoke. She refused to look at the other girl. Sensing that she needed time to herself – for perhaps the first time since she had been assigned this duty – Meliata just nodded and retreated to the opposite side of the room and drew a curtain that divided the two spaces. She wouldn’t leave in case Nwalme needed something doing, but for now this was the best space she could afford her.

Deciding to ignore those last comments Nwalme rose, and then floundered a little. Her initial intentions for the day had been to go study in the library, but since the festival had been declared, evidently that wasn’t going to happen. Lots of people bustling about, making ready the preparations – nowhere excepting her room was going to be a safe haven today. She stood and looked around her room aimlessly. That little spurt of hot-headedness had left her inexplicably drained. And despite wanting to ignore what the other girl had said, it kept niggling at her, as though a fire lizard was pecking her face for attention.

Maybe she should ditch the aloof act? After all, perhaps that would enable her to begin communicating with people on a more normal level, rather than with all the stops and starts? Food for thought apparently. She tried to shrug it off but it kept jumping back to the front of her thoughts. Well, she’d found it wasn’t terribly hard to talk to people without being distant, as several conversations in the past couple of weeks had proven. Maybe it was time?

For the meantime however, she had more important things to occupy herself with. The festival was starting, which meant she only had a limited amount of time to recap all of her study – Skrull Island sure was a complicated place. Her spirits fell a little as she remembered the phrase ‘almost impossible for an outsider to pass’, but she would not let herself stay crestfallen. After all, she prided herself on being fairly intelligent.

Also to worry about was the fact that she was summoned to the fifth floor this evening. Well, technically it was an invite to a feast, celebrating the first day of festivities. She knew that she would certainly not be the only candidate there, and so was hopeful of some good company in which she could let herself relax, even just a little. It was the scrutiny of the other guests though that had her worried. She breathed in deeply. So long as she remained polite and courteous, hopefully everything would go smoothly? She grimaced at that thought as another intersected it – then again this was Skrull and nothing had been going smoothly recently. Or that’s how it seemed at the moment.

So, priorities. By concentrating on what needed to be done today, Nwalme had managed to calm herself and rid herself f those pesky words that Meliata had implanted into her mind. A quick glance across the room proved that the girl was holding true to her word, and giving her a measure of privacy. Firstly, she’d have to seek out some clothes that were suited to a grand meal amongst some rather prestigious guests. Meliata had actually been a lot more helpful than Nwalme gave her credit for, because she had been a fountain of knowledge on Skrull – most importantly, she had told her all about what happened at festivals and how the events were laid out. Right now, that knowledge seemed invaluable. She could just imagine the scene if she hadn’t been informed of events – floods of people twinned with minor panic attacks on Nwalme’s part. This thought actually caused her to shake her head.

Firstly, she decided she had best pick some clothes out now, so as not to be in a scramble later when a Ghost rider came to pick her up. She moved over to the chest containing all of her clothes and opened it. The contents were not overwhelming. Considering that most of her clothes were of a practical nature, the majority were plain tunics and trousers. There were no dresses. She abhorred dresses. They draped over in her uncomfortable places and exposed far too much flesh for her tastes. Yuck. But buried deep in the chest there were a couple things that might just do the trick. Whilst a dress would be considered the norm for a girl, Nwalme hoped she could bend the rules a ‘little’ with these items. She fished out a pair of off-black trousers, probably the finest she owned. They were soft creamy leather; almost like suede they were so soft. The cut was close fitting, to allow boots to be worn over, rather than under, the trousers. The top she pulled out was similar to her everyday style – a tunic to all eyes, but more flattering in its cut. There was a slight flare to the sleeves towards the wrists and the cut of the garment was asymmetrical at the hem. The fabric itself was a beautiful deep plum hue, a stronger colour than she usually wore, but one that contrasted with her pale skin perfectly without washing her out. The tunic would be tied at the waist with a contrasting silver cord. All in all, it was a lot more feminine than she was used to… but it still wasn’t a dress. Laying the clothes out neatly upon her bed, Nwalme observed them with a critical eye. They weren’t too extravagant for a festival feast, she thought, nor were they too dull. She’d be a little uncomfortable, but she would feel nowhere near as exposed were she to wear a dress.

Nwalme turned from the clothes back to her desk and located her satchel with her scrolls in. It had fallen to the floor at some point in the commotion of sorting out her clothes. Picking it up, she placed it carefully on the desk before seating herself. Meliata was still being quiet – a blessing by all accounts.

‘And now,’ she thought with a grim set to her mouth, ‘to study….’

[Desert]

A messenger trotted into the long, low room on the Second Level wherein the residents of the Weyr went if they wanted to get some exercise. Bags weighted with sand were scattered about the room, some hanging from the ceiling as targets while others were attached to pulley complexes for weight-lifting. One of the hanging bags shuddered under a powerful blow, and the messenger made for that bag. Behind it was Kendrik, with only loose trews on and sweat beading lightly across his lean frame. When the candidate's sharp green eyes made out the other human, he dropped out of his fighting stance and unslung the rough towel from his neck, to wipe sweat from his brow.

"Weyrleader B'ach has requested that you appear at the Fifth Level tonight, to accompany the dinner party that he has organized," the messenger recited smartly, and stood by to receive Kendrik's response.

Kendrik nodded. "Convey my gratitude to the Weyrleader. I will be there."

The messenger snapped off a brisk salute and left the room. Kendrik ruffled the towel through his sweat-damp hair before draping it back across his shoulders. There was some time yet before the Trial of Knowledge, which would give him the opportunity to bathe away the morning practice and get in some last-minute studying before the examination.

Rolling his neck, Kendrik strolled down to the First Level and the bathing pools, where he located the pool farthest from the entrance, a small, hot pool that rarely saw use. It suited him perfectly. The water was nearly scalding, and more like a recreational hot pool rather than a bathing place; however, he reveled in the intense heat that boiled away all the impurities on his skin. What the water didn't get, the scrubbing sand did, scouring meticulously until he was satisfied that he was as clean as one bath could get him. This had been a daily ritual for the past Turn and a half, leading him to uneasiness if he went more than a day without bathing. He'd never completely rid himself of the feeling of being tainted and unclean, but this was close enough to allow him to move on with his day.

His bath - which hadn't taken long despite the meticulous care he took - over, Kendrik trotted back up to the Third Level and the library, where he installed himself at his usual table and opened out a scroll. He had already replaced all the old records the evening before; those slate tablets would do him little good anymore, since the Hatching would be soon. Everything would be revealed once the eggs began breaking shell, this much he knew. It went deeper than intellectual certainly, with that gut feeling that something significant was going to happen. He was of two minds about this instinctive reaction: on the one hand, he knew that instincts existed for a reason and it was wise to heed them, but on the other, he had little faith or patience for anything not grounded in logic and reason. Still, he knew there were strong logical reasons to pay attention to his instincts this time, and so he looked forward to the Hatching ceremony with no little wariness. He had decided to take his place on the sands - why not, when he would in all likelihood pass the Trial of Knowledge at the top of the class? There was nothing holding him back besides his own apprehensions, and of the many things Kendrik was, a coward was not on that list. He was not willing to let an unhatched dragon-whelp keep him from his rightful place.

-----

One of the first to appear high in the sky above Skrull Island Weyr was a tempest of Solainoti. Xanntorith spiraled down, watching the shades of Skrull perform their aerobatics with as much curiosity and awe as his passengers. He was surprised to see that there were a pair of huge gates at the apex of the Weyr, and backwinged hesitantly as the ghosts at the rim greeted him. I am Xanntorith, Weyrking of Solainoti Weyr, with my rider N'yx and our guest,[/i][/color] he informed the watchghosts. He followed one of them to the Fifth Level ledge and landed, folding his wings and crouching to let the two humans dismount. For he had agreed - though reluctantly - to bear Kadran as a passenger. N'yx had thought it a good distraction, to bring Kadran to this Festival. Since the ex-blackrider had been Eden's closest approximation to Weyrleader, and its representative to the Council where B'ach had introduced himself, kadran had also received a formal invitation. There was no reason for him not to come, and N'yx thought it would be a good idea to give the poor man a bit of a distraction. Kadran, in the moments he had hauled himself out of the cocoon of apathy, had expressed an interest in seeing Skrull Island Weyr, which gave N'yx the excuse to bring him along.

The two humans slid off Xanntorith's shoulder, the taller of the two stumbling slightly, his knees unused to landing so soon after slinging his leg over the draconic neck. He shrugged out of N'yx's steadying grasp, and fell in behind the Solainoti Weyrleader. Both men looked around curiously, intrigued to see the differences in the way Skrull was designed. Granted, it was more similar to the designs that the modern Weyrs had compared to Eden's open, forested environment, but the broad Shaft that plunged stories into the ground was novel nonetheless. Seeing ghosts crawling along the vertical walls was as intriguing as watching the shades twine and eel around each other in the sky.

Kadran had to admit that, for all that Eden had been known as the maverick Weyr with strange dragons and customs, in a way his old Weyr paled in comparison with Skrull Island's long-concealed traditions and dragons. He was glad for this opportunity: he had been needing a distration as much as N'yx had been looking for one. The ex-blackrider had kept his head since the initial ourburst when he had first arrived at Solainoti, though they both knew that soon, Kadran would reach the breaking point. Where he had faced curious looks and prying qiestions in Eden, at Solainoti he had borne the intrigue of the entire population of the Weyr. It was wearing on him, and he was regretting leaving Eden, where at least he had his reputation to keep people at bay. The constant, if mostly innocent, attention was wearing on his sanity, as both he and N'yx knew.

[/size]

[Onyxaeon]

Vsiasi and Isionyth had not been far behind N'yx and Xann having appeared from the far eastern horizon. The Weyrwoman, in her current state of eight months pregnant, had not wished to chance anything still by betweening and so the Senior Queen of Solainoti had been forced to fly the great distance to Skrull using coordinates sent by B'ach himself in his invitation. Of course with an egg heavy queen and an equally gravid Weyrwoman being stuck flying such a long distance things were bound to be heated once they landed.

The Brimstone beauty followed after her mate, encountering Ghosts to whom she snappishly announced her title and well as Hers and, as an afterthought, stated she was in no mood for nonsense because she had eggs to lay and a rider to carry to term. The stone laden males did not argue but rather led her up to the fifth level where she landed promptly. Vsiasi took a good ten minutes to dismount having to brace herself several times after sliding down Isi's arm as her legs had grown stiff. A low, grumbled mutter was her only indication she was in pain as she stepped away from her dragon.

Mine, I shall remain here relatively out of the way for the time being. My wings need a moment to rest before I find the time to greet whomever has arrived before us. With that she settled down to the ground far enough from the main level entrance that larger dragons than she could still land comfortably with her present. Her wings remained barely unfurled for comfort.

Nodding to her dragon, Vsiasi made the slow waddle into the receiving room of the fifth level where she found N'yx and Kadran studying the layout of the walls. She chuckled softly, a faint and musical din as she moved to join them. "It is rather different, is it not? I think it suit the dragon here nicely, though. Brutish, rock laden things they appear to be. With any luck none will tread on Isi's nerves...She's already tired from the flight here. And yes," she interrupted N'yx before he could comment, "I know I did not have to come but I wished to. Hatching don't occur everyday and, besides, I was tired of being cooped up in my Weyr for your insane cautious reasons."

---

Back at the gates, a group of four dragons waited patiently from Talune to be permitted into the Weyr. It was to be expected-the Talune Weyrleader D'ron had showed with his prideful weyrking Varanth. The black behemoth cast his eyes back to his younger charges, eying them curiously as they waited for their Ghost guide to surface from the lower levels. The three mimics each respectively wore enough "light-block" to prevent the entirety of the Weyr from getting the slightest hint of a burn on their flesh although, when actually in use, the block only provided just enough to keep their hides from searing and they perpetually felt hot to the touch despite the fact they no longer burned in Rukbat's light. Each wore a contraption upon their nobbed heads that functioned as a mask, dyed to complemint their distinctive highlights. It went over their maws, parting to allow their jaws to open for food or flame, and ended at the junction where skull met neck. It also allowed open sots for their never swirling faceted eyes.

Fremonth beat his wings lazily beside of his larger black counterpart, his body having grown into its proportions but not yet into its entirety yet. He was large for a weyrling just as his brother Folkvarth behind him, but each was not done growing yet and the case of their flying and betweening now was only due to the Weyrleader overriding the Weyrlingmaster and permitting them to learn ahead of their peers. Even the Onyx weyrling back on Talune's shores now along with the Gold soon-to-be-transferred queen did not yet fly Theirs or between. It had been a case of the three absorbing every article of information thrown at them without need for repetition or explanation. Their minds functioned as sponges, hungrily soaking up any and all information with barely any failure to credit to their names. They were, much to the Weyrlingmaster's disdain, the perfect students. And D'ron had recognized the potential in these young riders and dragons and, for once since he had impressed, allowed for a change in the rules.

When their Ghost arrived, Varanth followed after the foreign dragon and his charges then trailed after their Weyrleader up until they had reached the fifth floor and could see Isionyth resting herself on the ledge. Varanth landed carefully so as not to disturb her although the point was moot as the queen greeted him shortly after the Mimics landed.

Greetings Varanth. I hope you and Yours are well. Mine as well as Her N'yx are inside discussing the walls. She sighed irritably, her tail twitching behind her until she caught sight of the Mimics now standing beside of the Onyx male. Her tail stopped shifting and she eyed the three cautiously.

I see you brought...guests. You are weyrlings, yes? I have never seen you of Talune before...You must be from the last hatching then. She seemed to be piecing information together, rising to come closer to the three and observe them further when each Mimic mantled their wings and hissed as she came within too close of a distance to Theirs.

Fremonth bespoke the senior queen before Varanth could warn the Brimstone of her actions and, when he did so, his tone implied that of an equal. He was on par with the elder queen and that much was blatantly stated in his tone. Brimstone Queen, I respect your curiosity at our hides but you have come far too close to Ours. Step aside and we shall not be forced to defend them.

The bluntness with which the Mimic male had spoken caused the queen to tilt her head curiously and a draconic smirk emerged upon her maw and she moved back several steps. Talune has grown spine since I last visited. I will respect your space although do not mistake my tolerance on this one occasion to be anything short of a blessing. I am tired and therefore ill equipped to arm you as I should have. Go inside and show yourselves to Mine and the others present. I'm sure they will be stunned to see such transparent guards before them.

Fremonth allowed His to dismount and dipped his head to the Brimstone. Mistake us not for weak. We will grow further and we will become a threat. Isionyth rumbled faintly although her tone betrayed not humor but hope for a challenge. She found these new mutants delightfully, sinfully, brutish and cold. It sent a thrill through her spine.

D'ron dismounted and waited as he watched Varanth spend several moments conversing with Isionyth before moving on the Xanntorith before the man wandered in after his weyrlings. He cast a greeting to the Solainoti Weyrleaders and introduced the dragons and riders at his side whom seemed content, for the moment, with the Weyrleader at a normally unacceptable place directly beside all of Theirs.

"N'yx, Vsiasi, Kadran, I would like you to meet three of my weyrlings. The white beauty before you is Fedorath with her rider, M'yran. Beside her is her brother, Folkvarth, and His, Jeri. Lastly, Fremonth and his rider R'taik." Each weyrling bowed for politeness and R'taik cast his gaze toward Vsiasi whom was staring with rapt attention at the masks covering his dragon's skull. He spoke firmly as his dragon had done with the woman's queen. "It is to shield the most sensitive parts of their hides from Rukbat. I designed it to block out the light while still allowing for flame and food to enter and exit. The faint protrusion of the leather over the eyes also eliminates the glare from Rukbat and aids in sighting targets within the air, especially ones that glisten."

[Lyrikitty]

The sounds of the Weyr rumbled through the halls and under her door, crashing into her room. She was... Well she was feeling a mess lately. Between all the stress of the Weyr, paranoia getting the better of her, random people stalking her and claiming to be 'keeping an eye out for her safety', and the pending possibility that her father might appear sometime during the festival. At least she'd had Nwalme to keep her company.

With a groan, she shoved the hides she'd been reading away and rubbed her eyes. Might as well get dressed and get out to see what all the fuss was about. Riffling through her chest to find a proper dress to wear seemed to take forever. She didn't have the wide range of lovely garments she had once owned back before she came to Skrull. Granted she'd never been fond of those things, but somehow it felt like she really ought to dress nicely for this. After thirty minutes, and every article of clothing she owned having been thrown on the ground or on the bed, tossed onto the backs of chairs or draped on the small table in the corner... All i all her room looked a thorough mess and at the end of it, the wisp of a girl flopped to the floor and threw her hands up in confusion. "What the sharding hell?!?! How am I supposed to find something that... Would... Faranth I'm stupid."

The incredible realization that the person she normally tried to impress with her lovely clothes no longer mattered, suddenly her quest to find something appropriate was revealed in a whole new light. There was only one who mattered now, only one creature on the entire planet who she needed the approval of. A faint smile fluttered across her lips and her expression smoothed itself to one of sublime bliss. She didn't give a crack about the people in this Weyr who seemed to hate her. She didn't care if they thought she wasn't fit to stand before the eggs or to take the tests. She was. One of the eggs had already marked her in a special way, she'd felt the power behind it, had witnessed the unhatched dragon's response to her rage first hand. That little creature was the only thing that really mattered.

With a sharp nod of determination, Riki got back to her feet and hunted for a nice pair of leggings. The black fabric made her already slender legs look thin as could be, despite being nicely toned. A tunic was selected next, of a lovely mix of colors. Deep blue, so dark it almost appeared black in nature, accented with light gray trim in a flowing design at the hem and sleeves. Lightly speckled over the lower portion of the tunic was a darker gray that blended nicely with the deep blue. Satisfied thus far, she selected a simple belt and fastened the lightly colored strip of leather around her slight waist. A glance in the reflective metal told her she looked very lovely. She slide on the light-weight, black leather dancing boots she owned, and added some silver jewelry to finish it off. Perfect. Her hair, which had been tamed at the top of her head in a knot, was freed and fell around her shoulders and framed her face with soft waves and gentle curls. Satisfied she looked good enough for the day, she shoved the rest of her clothing back into the chest at the foot of her bed and headed out, following her ears to the source of most of the commotion in the Weyr.

-----

Still unsure where she stood with her beloved Amberrider, Kisa dressed herself somberly. The Hatching had been a surprising success, all things considered. Though new mutations had shown themselves, and most of the normally seen colors had been odd in their own way, nothing too terrible had come. Both Ambers hatched and had Impressed well, one showing a great deal of potential, the other… Well he would have to be closely watched, but Kisa was hopeful for the beast. Plenty of young Snows had been, and in a few Turns should Xyurith chose he could chase one of them and likely keep his rank as king of New Cove. Surely one in that lot would opt not to chew stone and instead lead the life of the very heart of the Weyr. Silvyth couldn’t be the only one.

~MineKisa, we should be leaving now. I have heard nothing from our Amber if he and His will join us, but you at least should appear if only for a little while at Skrull.~ The Snow lifted her head from her paws where she rested in the groove of her couch to stare intently at her tiny rider. She had matured greatly since Black Sands had launched their devious attack on Pern, she had no choice, and she spoke with diplomatic wisdom formerly unknown to her. Kisa nodded, and made sure she had everything she needed before she clambered up onto Silvyth’s great back and clung tightly. The large Snow rose and moved to their ledge, peering at what had been her Weyr for all her life with sorrow. She had been able to offer a glimmer of hope with her last true act as the Queen of New Cove, but only fate knew how that flickering ray would play out. Her sides heaved with a quiet sigh as she unfurled her wings and dropped, letting them fill with air and lift her with powerful strokes. High above the beaches they vanished, and reappeared above the mount within which Skrull hid.

Gently they swept down and awaited entrance to the cryptic Weyr. It took what seemed forever, but neither complained. They merely waited, and when waved in the Snow found a place a bit away from the crowd of the other dragons to land herself and let Kisa down. It took the miniscule Snowrider a few moments to maneuver down safely, but she was pretty sure they had been largely unnoticed. Once on the ground Kisa shook out the dress she wore, a bold thing to wear considering the way in which she came, and placed a hand on Silvyth’s shoulder. Call if you need me, my love. I am sure the others won’t bother you too much about your clutch. A sore subject for the former-Queen. Considering she’d been reknown as an excellent, if overprotective, mother it was agonizing to know she would never again lay egg. ~I shall be fine, Mine. Now go and try to enjoy this day.~ Kisa nodded, and moved away from her Snow. At a glance, the Snowrider looked lovely, but on closer inspection, one would easily see that she looked worn and tired. Her raven hair cascaded down her back freely in light curls, her pale blue eyes were distant with a lack of sleep and many endless days of stress and worry. Her dress, a light and dark blue one with long sleeves and a long hem that ended just above the ground and showed no skin, was custom made by the weavers in the South. She had wanted something she could wear any season comfortably, but which would show none of the scars which littered her body. What she’d received was beyond expectation. It accented her narrow waited with a black belt, and was speckled all over with dark blue. The base was a light, frothy blue which was cheerful and vibrant, much like she normally was. A full skirt had been required so she could sit sideways on Silvyth and go to events and Gathers. She stood awkwardly near Silvyth for a moment longer before she sucked in a breath and forced herself to move towards the others, noting the unusual dragon and drawing close enough just in time to hear an explanation of their armor.

-----

Nebula had been dressed for awhile now, and waiting patiently for Nwalme or Riki to emerge from their respective rooms. Simple clothing, black tunic and dark brown leggings, made his attire for the day. Riki emerged first, but she seemed ready to hustle off somewhere. He was fairly certain by the way she looked she was headed for the fifth level. A couple of hours early, but he couldn’t fault her. It spoke well of her in fact. If she was eager to be up there and get stuck in conversation with the riders and leaders from other Weyrs, more power to her. Perhaps she’d be a welcome change for the Weyr, someone who was more open to the world beyond the stone walls and darkness. He debated staying, and waiting for Nwalme, but… B’ach had made a fuss out of Riki’s safety. At least, to the degree he’d sparred with Nebula to prove a point. With a sigh, he followed a safe distance behind Riki, until she made it safely to the fifth level, before he walked back yet again to keep an eye on Nwalme. If Riki as in danger, it wouldn’t be while she was in B’ach’s weyr at least.

O’pun, the Ghostrider who occasionally asked favors of him, caught him on his way. ”Nebula, hey. I need more-“ He was cut off by a grunt and a nod. More leather. Yeah. If Nebula didn’t know any better, he’d think the man was eating it, rather than using it for his straps. He’d grab it later, as usual. O’pun just nodded and smiled, clapping the muscular youth on the shoulder and going about his business. The rest of the way to Nwalme’s room was uneventful, and he planted himself against the wall a short distance away, still in easy sight of the room. He felt bad for Nwalme, really. Meliata could try anyone’s nerves, and the highly intelligent healer lass didn’t seem the sort who spent a lot of time socializing. Likely making Meliata even more unbearable.

-----

~Mine!~ Basionath scrambled to her paws and rumbled happily for what seemed no reason, scaring Katya witless and making the Silverrider nearly leap out of her skin. ”What?!?!” She scowled and glared at Sio, who was prancing in place like an excited runner. ~They came! They are here!~ ”Oh. Oh! Well get moving then you wonderful angel, I don’t want to waste a second down here all alone.” She grabbed her boots and stuffed her feet into them hurriedly. She hadn’t seen D’ron in what felt like ages. No matter how long it had been, she was certain it was most definitely too long. Sio seemed to be in full agreement of this. She was all but shoving Katya out the door by the time the woman had her boots on, and she was glad that was all she needed to do. She’d dressed earlier, in a white tunic with a wide black belt and black leggings, looking impressive as always, her hair left free and untamed and her lively eyes full of challenge. Skrull had been good for both of them. Basionath’s hide was lightened once more and free from the tarnish Black Sands had created. Katya was starting to relax around people. Not much, but little bits at a time. She was finding it easier to talk to people without automatically thinking they were going to try and kill her, and Basionath was growing more comfortable with the idea of people touching Katya.

A Ghost was waiting by the time she got to the shaft, called by Sio, and she tied herself to the dragon securely. She didn’t find Skrull’s native breeds to be particularly attractive, but the again perhaps the only dragon the woman had ever found to be really beautiful were Silvers. The trip was short, though it felt much longer, and by the time they were on the fifth floor, she was tapping nervously on her leg. She couldn’t get untied fast enough, and the rider who had accompanied her laughed in amusement at her rush. ”You won’t miss anything important. There are only a few in there right now.” She shrugged, instead of responding tartly, and hustled off at a near-run. Only when she stepped into the room did she stop, and her intense eyes scanned those gathered in search of the Onyxrider D’ron. She spied him, along with several others, and made her way over in a leisurely walk which often drew the eye of those who were inclined to the fairer gender. She noticed Kisa toss a glance at her, and she flashed a smile to the small woman. Poor thing, her life seemed to be destined for nothing but misery. At least Katya’s own life was starting to hit a high note.


OOC:: Bleh, hate this post so much. >.> May bring in more chars late in the thread.

[Bacchante]

In the Wraithweyr, B'ach was now overseeing the placement and preparation of a mass of chairs and tables. Small, one person each, and all kept in a storage room on the fifth level. Nobody else had need of them and it would have been far too inconvenient to have to drag them up from below. He pondered the course of the day as he watched the workers. He still had yet to determine what the Stonecarvers would be making for their test and the course of the Technician's Race had to be finalized.

On top of that, the Master Brewer who was supposed to be judging the tasting test for his craft had gotten into a bad batch of the Skrull Special and was currently in the care of Kaneh the Healer. Apparently he thought he was a firelizard. Now the guests had arrived and he wondered what to do about them. An idea struck him at that moment and he smiled faintly. Yes, that would work. For now let his father greet them. The leader himself could stop by in a moment.

Guard Captain of Skrull, B'rac, was feeling irked. His son constantly did this. Going over his head for insane stunts and then expecting HIM to take care of it. It would be outright infuriating, if it wasn't so damn clever. But the Council no longer had a say in matters around Skrull, and B'ach didn't need to outmaneuver them anymore. Which is why, as he strolled toward the gathering party with Ghresath in tow, he forced himself to put on a genial smile even if he was fuming underneath.

The man they saw heading towards them was prematurely aged, no doubt about it. Grey hair and wrinkled face in spite of a quick gait and a strong build. He looked sort of like a version of B'ach that had been out in the sun a bit too long, assuming that B'ach could suddenly grow nearly a full foot taller. Trailing behind him was Ghresath, his equally elderly Ghost matron. She was older than most, if not all, of the humans in the group to say nothing of the dragons.

Age does not weaken Ghosts any more than pressure weakens coal. It only makes it harder. Ghresath bore the traditional thick armouring of her breed, but also a horned bone crest atop her skull that looked fairly menacing. The tops of her massively oversize paws were surmounted with jagged ridges running along the tops of her claws. She wasn't large by draconic standards, being some nineteen metres from nose to tail. But, when one considered that her tail was rather short and stubby and her shoulders were several metres wider than was appropriate for a dragon of that size, she still appeared quite intimidating.

B'rac didn't even slow down. He practically charged into the group amidst the stunned expressions of both riders and dragons, especially the three oddly shaped ones he saw there. The very first thing he did was grasp someone's hand and shake it vigorously, launching into a booming tirade. "Welcome, welcome! It's so wonderful to have such prestigious visitors!" He'd already moved on to the next person, then the next, burning through handshakes at lightning speed.

When he headed for one particular triad of people, however, he elicited a decidedly negative reaction from the curious looking trio of dragons nearby. Ghresath was not amused in the least. <Whelps, be silent. Perhaps in your own Weyr such discourtesy is tolerated, but if you display such a vehemence to one who merely wishes to greet your rider then I am afraid you will be unwelcome here. Shame on you! You dishonor your sire with such a display of childishness.>

B'rac coughed as his dragon wound down her sudden burst of fury. He continued where she left off, "Well said, Mine. Weyrleader D'ron, I hesitate to be so blunt with you, but if your weyrlings have yet to learn courtesy then perhaps they should return home. The other visitor from your Weyr was most polite once we finally caught him." B'rac seemed to choose not to elaborate on that just yet, save saying, "You can come see him later."

For now he turned back to the remaining guests. "Please, please, come this way. B'ach ordered some tables set up with some refreshments. As soon as he's finished setting up he will join you and grant a tour of the fair."

[Onyxaeon]

ooc: I'll post with Patron later. My muse just...><

bic: A scowl marred D’ron’s features, his normally cheery disposition twisting into an unmistakably sour one. He did not so much as check his words as he stared back at B’rac, eyes hardening. “Perhaps it is you Guard Captain that should consider courtesy. Now, I don’t mean to be blunt, but you slipped past me before I had the chance to request you give my weyrlings a respectful distance. They are of a decidedly possessive nature when regarding Theirs, and you should be wise enough to have gathered that from their body language before plowing through them and causing an unnecessary conversation. Now I was told I would be welcomed here for this festivity but so far I must say you do not fare so well with tact and basic hosting skills. Perhaps I was mistaken to have assumed such.”

The Talune Weyrleader drew his eyes away from Guard Captain, cast toward his Onyx whose skull had poked through the entranceway to observe the event and voice his words to the Ghost whom had insulted his young. I do not care for your tone about my offspring, Skrull Ghost. I assure you, if anything it gives me pride to see them standing up for what is theirs’. In the light of the glows the healing wounds from Black Sands could be clearly visible, although the swelling had gone down considerably over the past few weeks and his limp had faded to nothing. I assure you, there is nothing childish about their behavior. They have surpassed all others in their class, thus far the only granted right to both fly and between. That is the reason they are here and the reason they shall remain.

Something about B’rac’s last words caught D’ron off guard, his brows furring. His other guest? Beside him, Fremonth growled in low irritation causing His to voice the thoughts the Mimics had been conversing amongst themselves. “Weyrleader, we believe your Onyx trainee has followed after us. Folkvarth saw him in the Bowl with Alamayanth trying to gather his wings a night ago. We thought nothing of it-he could not gather his thoughts enough to get more than a foot off the ground.” We. A unit. The change in the riders of the Mimics had already begun. Already they were losing the identity of self. Already they were beginning to see themselves as an inseparable single entity.

D’ron caught B’rac carefully by the upper of his arm before he flitted off to guide Vsiasi and her party off, his voice low. “I brought no other guests aside from what you see before me. Whom followed, because he has no right to be here, at least not by my grant.”

…..

Vsiasi had been observing the whole ordeal half amused half stunned at the audacity of the Guard Captain. It was one thing to address ones inferiors in such a tone and another entirely to do so to a visiting guest let alone one of higher rank. “It seems Skrull has been hidden from the rest of Pern so long their manners have rusted considerably,” she commented to N’yx just high enough for the rest of the crowd to hear but in a light and dearly amused tone. She lightly elbowed her Weyrleader, a small smirk turning the corners of her lips.
As they were ushered out of the room, her tone shifted to a more subtle nature and her eyes turned to Kadran whom had thus far been silent on the subject. “Seems an ill way to foster new alliances with another Weyr, would not you agree?