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Dalibor is a semi-canon Dragonriders of Pern site. No knowledge of the series or site is required to join; players of all experience levels are welcome here. Founded in 2008 on Proboards and moved to Jcink in 2013, Dalibor has been running for eight years.

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Summer, 18th Turn, 11th Pass

Upcoming Flights:
Green Jasmith

Upcoming Hatchings:
Red Cyanide

Slightly chilly spring days slowly but surely grow warmer as spring gives way to summer. Already the season is proving to be an unseasonably warm one, thankfully breezes have been common giving some relief. Dalibor's denizens can be found frequenting the Weyr's lake more often than in the season before, soaking up all of Rukbat's warm rays while they last.

Though not as common as the springtime there are lingering showers that come and go; thunderstorms are suddenly more common than they were in spring. Word is spreading that Fort Weyr has had an interesting outcome at their most recent hatching: An Orange broke shell and Impressed a genderneutral Candidate.
Leadership
Weyrwoman
Rayna of Gold Couineth - Boo

Weyrleader
Z'dyn of Iron Baihujinth - Rhia

Jr. Weyrwoman
Jali of Copper Laanasuth - Rii

Jr. Weyrleader
Arlya of Burgundy Xerocleth - Rowana

Alphahandler
Norla of Bronze Norsk - Ivy

Betahandler
Der of Grey Desk - Rii
Oreanda of Bronze Osk - Ruin

Weyrlingmaster
Nia of Pink Koeneth - Catsitta
S'vor of Green Absinth - Ruriko

Wherlingmaster
Ijo of Brown Isk - Rhia
Pavir of Blue Pavisk - Captain
Swithin of Blue Swisk - Ivy

Candidatemaster
Ulian of White Rivath - Ruin
Ra'h of Green Musath - Blot
Zanii of Black Zansk - Leo

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Ivy
Rii
Ruin

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Rhia
Tobes

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Tigersilk
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Dalibor was created by Bre, continued by Cathaline, and is now owned and operated by Ruin. Most of the information, rules, and graphics were made, compiled, or written by staff with credit given to those whose resources they used. Stock thanks to credited parties. All characters and posts are copyrighted to the members of the game. No material from this site should be copied in any way, shape, or form without utter express permission from the members and staff. All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's 'Dragonrider of Pern' series are copyright Anne McCaffrey 1967-2017, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with general permission for non-commercial purposes without monetary gain.

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 Masquerade! Every face a different shade, SU 18th Moon Masque Opening Feast
Mopsy93
 Posted: Feb 14 2018, 01:06 PM
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Pridesecond





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1355 Posts
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Hilrat wasn’t really sure about the goldentine thing but he did his best with writing one and few people that he would actually write one to, well except for Rosian especially when he received one from her.

Hey Rosian,

I hope that you’ve got some goldentines yourself aside from this one. I don’t know if you have any other Weyrbrats to come along but it will be great to meet up with you.

Hilrat


He wasn’t sure how awkwardly worded that was, he wasn’t really used to doing this kind of thing but he did his best and that was as much as his parents expected him to do at least. Once the moon masque was started officially he grabbed his mask, it wasn’t that complicated really with just two different shades of blue, one paler compared to the other, representing his firelizard and pillie with a couple of pink feathers for Yissi. It didn’t take long to find Rosian along with a few other younger people from around the Weyr, jogging up to her saying, “Am I not too late?”

M’rat wasn’t too far away though he had both two other younger children to attend to as well as making sure that his pets didn’t cause any serious trouble while attending the Moon Masque. His own mask looked a whole lot like a Dragon, though not that close in tone to the bright Blue of his Dragon’s hide, it was a Blue colour all the same.

@Ruriko @Ivy @Catsitta

All of my characters are present and open to tagging including M'rat and their respective pets.


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RhiaBlack
 Posted: Feb 14 2018, 06:45 PM
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Senior Weyrleader





Wrangler of Muses


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Hargrove was busy. There was always dishes to pick up, given it was during supper that the event happened, and by nature a lot of Riders and Handlers didn't take their own dishes to the kitchens. Some did, but largely the vast majority left them on the tables for the Drudges like himself to look after. Shale, like His, didn't make a lot of noise; the Bronze was as stoic as he was quiet, curled up against His' neck and left shoulder to keep an eye on the world at large, his wings folded and falling partially down the nape of Hargrove's neck.

He didn't realize the Dragonless that the weyrfolk had been nattering about, had spotted him. He wouldn't have cared, if he did - he was working, and when he was working, 'conversation' and the long and short of any sort of social interactions he didn't have to uphold due to any sort of manners and etiquette were out the window.

His state of disinterest when it came to anything romantic, largely left him as an island in a sea of masked faces, those who primarily were interested in what he wasn't. Work came first. He'd eat when the festivities had died down, and there wasn't so much to do. He kept a small sensational eye on his Bronze, to make sure Shale wasn't getting hungry; he understood babies needed to eat more than most adult anythings did, so he wasn't above grabbing a scrap of herdbeast from the pail of such on the way in and out of the kitchens relaying orders of food, banquet refills, klah containers and wine skins, and emptied dishes.

Granted, he'd already been accosted by more than a fair share of men and women alike, intoxicated and looking for company, and taking his lack of status to mean he was a free-for-all for their sexual indiscretions. Hands on his wrist or his ass had been evaded, and a stern look worthy of sobering them up more than a handful of moments making his stance on the matter clear. He was kind enough, certainly, but grabbing anyone without their permission was rude as shards and he had enough self-worth and visual wrath to make it clear that Drudge or not, he was nobody's tool of use.

The Senior Weyrleader was in the room, as - Hargrove was sure - was the Senior and Junior Weyrwomen. He wouldn't have to protest much to see people's useless wants removed elsewhere.

The voice startled him out of his focus, but not something that visibly did so much more than a hard cut of eyes to a general vicinity. Busy as he was, he paid no mind as to whether there were knots or not; the initial look saw only a mask and someone shorter than him, and the tone of it identified her immediately - as far as Hargrove could tell - as female.

She'd asked him a question, and an answer was given only in the form of a sweeping gesture of his hand towards the neat-ish stacks he'd been putting his own on.

With that, he stepped around her easily enough, and made his way back out to the Dining Hall. No time for discussions, clearly. Enough Drudges and Weyrfolk had transferred to Grove and the new Holds therein, and been killed by the sickness from the jungles, that they were short-handed and he had no desire to lollygag and get chewed out by anyone that outranked him. He had another candlemark or so of runner-work to handle, and then it was dishwashing duties while the rest of the cleaning up from supper proper was undertake, though there were bound to be snacks maintained through the early to late evening hours anyway.

Kyzekeidon had no internal idea of the Crafter across from him's considerations for whether or not he wanted to Impress a dragon, and there was food in front of him, so much of Keirian's own internal discussion with himself found the younger boy simply focused on his meal. Something he took from his father, no less. Put food in front of him, and though he largely wasn't like his father insofar as it was his entire focus, he did tend to shut up a bit more than he would without the food.

Not that he talked a whole lot in the first place.

He still had yet to look up at the other, focused on his food and largely indifferent to the goings-on around him. Z'dyn had insisted he and Keivhyn attend, probably so their father could keep an eye on them, but Ky didn't seem to be ultimately interested in being there. Even still, he had to eat.

It was as if the other man had never seen a weyrbrat craft things before. Like because of who his father was, suddenly Kyzekeidon wasn't capable of anything artistic. People assumed that a lot about him, about his father. That because Z'dyn was so large-built, because his hands had difficulties handling anything small or fine, that he automatically wasn't creative. That he was a man who centered only on work, sleep, dragons, wing duties, and making children.

"I'm a Candidate," he spoke up. "What do I need Marks for? My father's a Weyrleader, my grandfather's a Master Tanner. If I need something, and the Weyr doesn't provide it, they can get it for me."

The concept of gathering a hoard of Marks had always been a foreign concept to the young man, mostly because his mother had never spoiled him in the ways most did their children. In some ways, Ky's only expensive gift in his fourteen turns of life, was the guitar his mother had made for him. It was, by virtue of what it was and how much it cost, his most-prized possession. But outside of that, he had no idea what he'd even use marks for.

He finally lifted his eyes to the masked face of the other man, long enough to roll them and shake his head.

"You thought like they do," he jerked his head over his shoulder, indicating the rest of the room. "People look at Papa, think because he's built like a draybeast, he's got the mind of one, too. Because he's big, and can't do a lot with his hands, that he's not creative or any of that." He licked gravy off his lower lip, and shoved another bite of meatroll past his teeth. "Grampa's a Master Tanner. Half the Weyr's wearing leathers and straps he's made. Half the whers have harnesses tooled in a lesson he taught. How creative you think you've gotta be, to be a Master anything?"

Ky sighed, taking a sip of his klah.

"I'm an Apprentice Harper. So's my brother. His Ma was a Harper. But Harper or no, we're Candidates first. Well, I am, Keiv's got another few seasons yet."

He snorted, and scanned the festivities.

"Plenty of people without masks on, plenty of people that look like they want someone to dance with, or having a little bit too much wine." He rolled a shoulder in a shrug. "Isn't that what everybody wants these days? Someone to shack up with?" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Even my Dad's not immune to it."

@Ruriko


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Ivy
 Posted: Feb 14 2018, 07:19 PM
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Alphahandler





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Open for any and all tags to branch into one on one threads if desired.


Fitting in had become easier with her Impression, but at times like this she was distinctly reminded of how much she had missed out on growing up on the isles. Memories of her life before the isles had helped considerably with easing her way back into society after she escaped that bleak place - but even she had trouble recalling the last time she’d truly celebrated anything on a personal level. Hatching feasts, graduation feasts, she’d been to plenty but she’d skirted on the outer edges or sat at the front table since her promotion. There had been no immersion into the event as it was simply expected of her to be there. To support others with her presence. Namedays passed by without acknowledgement… in truth she couldn’t even recall precisely when her nameday was. Sometime in autumn when the leaves were changing; at least that’s when she thought it might be. Yet here she was throwing herself into the grips of a celebration she didn’t fully understand - how did Belior and Timor’s actions dictate the wearing of masks and fine clothes? Dancing and drinking, grand feasts prepared by the kitchens, and Goldentines? Though she’d been in the Weyr for turns she was once more reminded of how much of an outsider she would always be.

Not out-sider. Alpha. All look to. Deserve fun times like others. Not always need be serious. Need take care of self and enjoy.

Alpha or not, I still don’t fit in.

She might not have thought to go at all, except to grab food and show her face of course, if not for the fact she’d been asked to go. By Dhiren, a Candidate. Was it even appropriate for her to accept? He’d asked her to go as friends. Friends, is that what they were when she thought about it? Vessa and Oreanda were also her friends but talking to them did not elicit the same uneasy feeling that talking to Dhiren did; that was easy enough to attribute to his rank. Given her own rank it may have been more prudent to keep others at arm’s length but wasn’t she also supposed to be available if needed? It was all confusing and yet she hadn’t said no to his invitation - why should she avoid meeting someone there when practically everyone would be there? Besides extra eyes were always good when it came to Candidates and the Wherlings.

The mask and dress she’d pieced together with help from a weaver did little to hide her identity or make her stick out from the crowd. The dress was a simple cut with copper and bronze tones throughout, much like her mask. Beadwork across the entire top and midsection abruptly gave way to layers of thin copper fabric that fell from the waist down to her knees. It was cute and feminine and thus met what was expected of her during the Masque. Entering the hall through the checkpoint she stuck to the outer edges of the already established crowd - she’d been late thanks to her hair. It was to her shoulders now and while finding a dress and making a mask had been relatively easy tasks knowing what to do with her locks was not. She’d been tempted, for a moment at least, to simply cut it all off. Instead she’d taken time to wash it and worked it through her fingers and palms, squeezing it as it dried to allow some soft crimping. No other adornments were added to her hair, though as she walked around the room she realized adding some feathers or beads may have been nice. Perhaps tomorrow.

Already aware of what his clothing and mask looked like it did not take long for her to pick Dhiren from the crowd - however as she made her way towards him she passed a gentleman in all black with a black and silver mask. Though the mask did its job the movements of the man as he walked spoke volumes about who was hidden beneath. ”Lykaios.” Pausing she glanced towards where Dhiren stood before looking back at the wherling, ”I didn’t expect to see you here. Try to enjoy yourself, mm?” Leaning in slightly she smiled up at him, ”Hoping to learn to dance without sparring sticks?” Then with a nod she left him to his business - though she made a mental note to keep tabs on him throughout the evening, just in case.

Approaching Dhiren finally she nodded politely, ”This is a much livelier affair than hatching and graduation feasts.” No Goldentines were exchanged from the Alphahandler to the Candidate, that, she felt, would have been inappropriate. Even if she’d spent considerable amount of time thinking on it.





He’d been early, not for the sake of being early but simply because he had nothing else planned for the evening and he was hungry. It would have been a simple task to show up while the hall was still being prepared and sneak food from the kitchens, then he could have avoided all of this. Yet he’d already spoken to Lu’ka about hanging out during the Masque - skipping out on the ironweyrling would have been rude, even if now it seemed like a good idea. So he came and enjoyed a few rolls while people filed in slowly through the checkpoints. If he’d thought about it he would have had one of his firelizards give the other man a heads up that he was already there. Maybe he would have even had them show the ironweyrling what he was wearing - but the thought never crossed his mind.

Instead he stood there eating his rolls without stopping to consider that maybe, just maybe, Lu’ka was hovering by the entrance waiting for him. Eventually, after seeing so many people enter the hall, he made his way towards the entrance and caught sight of the other man. Grinning he came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, ”Better grab yourself some food before it’s all picked over.”

As for his garb he had chosen black pants and a black shirt, his mask was the mask he’d been given by Dan’lusian when he graduated from weyrlinghood to a full rider. It was a dark green wild feline mask with two big "fangs" overlapping the cheeks, with a string of little yellow and salmon flowers down each side which acted as a mane. It was nice, festive, and he didn’t have to pick up a new mask just for the Masque - all in all it was a win win as far as he was concerned.

@Ruriko




Wearing a plum dress a few shades darker than Shirath’s hide she’d gone for simple elegance rather than something flashier. With clean lines that accentuated her curves she looked plenty appropriate for the Masque without drawing too much attention to herself. Even the mask she wore was relatively simple, the fabric on it the same color plum as her dress. It did not cover her entire face, instead it covered the area around her eyes. Black fabric lined the edges of the mask around the perimeter as well as around her eyes, with some subtle clear bead embellishments across the forehead. Again she went for simple and subtle.

The same could not be said for her weyrmate.

Fitting into the background was simply not something C’ian did, not that she minded. After all these turns she’d grown accustomed to how opposite they were - in truth he’d helped to pull her out of her shell considerably. Smiling she watched from the sidelines as he pulled off his stellar dance moves; thought they had come at different times and had no idea what the other was wearing he wasn’t hard to find. Arms crossed over her chest as she watched, a small smirk tugging at her lips before she finally crossed onto the dance floor and grabbed hold of his hands. Pulling him close she joined in the dance, though not quite as confident about kicking about as he was. Instead her movements were far more subdued, most of her movement from her feet shuffling on the floor and her hips swaying in time to the beat. ”Found you.”

@Boo




Dabyrie had not been asked to the Masque but that didn’t mean she intended on staying locked in her wherhole lamenting over the fact. Instead she was there in a beautiful dress with a mask that Phryie had helped her create. Likewise her daughter was there, though she was wearing face paint rather than a mask and had her Candidate knots on proud display. She’d yet to stand for a clutch but no doubt the time would come soon enough - Dabyrie could only hope that the hatchlings behaved themselves when the time came.

Hovering close to the youngest attendees - but not too close she had taken on the ‘mother hen’ role for now. There would be time for dancing and socializing of course, but until the time came that someone caught her attention she was content to keep an eye on the children. Someone needed to, right?

Open for tags.




His mask was a bit rough around the edges but Se’ng liked it all the same. A magnificent beast’s head rested just above his, leaving the lower portion of his face in full view and open for eating, drinking, kissing…

No woman is going to kiss you looking like that. Right on cue Freyotth was nagging his rider, just in case he had forgotten he disapproved of well everything. You are not to bring one of the handlers to our weyr again, I will knock her from the ledge myself.

Her? Ah’m alright to bring a man then? Ah’ll keep that in mind.

That is not what I meant. I me-

Ah know, ah know. Yer easy to wind up. Should go let them paint yer face in the ‘bowl. Might do ya some good to socialize. It was something Se’ng had been after since he’d Impressed the haughty burgundy, and something Freyotth was more than content to simply ignore. Yet in this instance he found himself considering it for a long moment. Couineth had been the one to come up with the idea, and wouldn’t it be easier to endear himself to her outside of flights than to win on the merit of his own wings come the next time she rose? Ah to be the Weyrleader… yes, yes he should socialize tonight. Even it meant letting someone mar his perfect hide with paint.

Taking wing he landed in the bowl and settled while announcing to those gathered to help with painting the dragons and whers, Something in gold, to match the lovely Couineth’s hide would be prefered. After all it was her idea, she deserves to be honored and properly thanked for her thoughtfulness.

Rolling his eyes Se’ng kept his eyes peeled for any number of young women who might be free for a dance or two. Tonight was all about fun and he intended to have a lot of it. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to find Zasime or Fisher among the masked figures. The former he missed now that he’d been shifted to another wing, the later he missed for… well far different reasons.

@Boo [Frey is sucking up to Coui, she is welcome to ignore him.]
@Leo @Ruin [Se’ng is looking for his two favorite ladies, if they plan on showing up and want company. Otherwise he’ll snag someone else, no pressure!]
Open for tags.




All set to enjoy the evening, Vessa had picked a mask carved from bone. It was perhaps a bit morbid but still feminine thanks to the details and how clean it was so she wasn’t bothered. The dress she wore was tailored for her - given her shorter stature and curves it was a must if she didn’t want to look like a child wearing one of her mother’s dresses. Fitted close to her body it showed off all of her ample curves and then some, the hem falling above her knee while the neckline dipped dangerously low. Around her neck she wore a necklace made of multicolored beads and small shells. The dress itself was cream on top with black on the bottom, definitely not flashy but showy in an entirely different way.

She’d arrived early to help with setting things up and now was enjoying a glass of wine while enjoying the music. Not too far from the junior weyrwoman and her husband she couldn’t help but overhear (not that Armon in particular was being hush hush about it) that they were expecting. Seeing how happy the couple were she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy - and then guilt for allowing herself to fall victim to such an ugly emotion. Why should she covet their happiness? She was happy with V’ael - things were strained from time to time but she was definitely well kept.

Draining her wine she sighed softly and sidestepped around other couples sharing Goldentines and enjoying the festivities. Slipping out of the entrance she kept her mask on as she headed to the lake for a bit of fresh air; then maybe she’d rejoin those in the dining hall.

@RhiaBlack [Going to tag V’ael in a one-on-one thread, just wanted you to see this.]




Ivy breezed in just as the greenhandler was on her way out, not that the cyanrider would have been able to pick the woman from a crowd even without the mask hiding her identity. She’d spent far too much time in her weyr contemplating the gift C’lainn had sent with his Goldentine. It was a dress, clearly meant to be worn for the Masque since it came with a mask, but it was just too much. No stranger to fashion she had a number of nice dresses to pick from; the Masque originated in the south after all so she was familiar with the need to dress to impress. Still what she owned was only nice and this… well the dress he’d sent her was extravagant. She didn’t want to accept it, she felt guilty accepting it, but she knew him well enough to know he could be stubborn as Mysqith when it came to certain things - this would be one of them.

Putting it on had been an event in of itself, it was fitted so well to her form she wondered if he’d taken to measuring her while she slept. Skin tight it left nothing to the imagination in regards to her proportions and curves, intricate beadwork and gathered fabric playing across the chest in a way that drew plenty attention to her. The green and gold hues were echoed in the equally beautiful mask he’d included, along with some teal and blue tones. Delicate clay flowers set against her temple as she put the mask on, tying the black cloth band behind her head to keep her mask in place. Red locks had been curled with half of them twisted and pulled back to keep her face free of stray strands. Lips were painted a red that nearly matched the fiery hue of her hair and they lifted in a sultry smile as she walked across the hall, turning more than one head.

With hands clenched in front of her she almost looked shy despite the allure she gave off in such an outfit - in truth she was just using her right hand to hide her left. It was the first feast she’d been to since the incident on the Sands the winter prior, but despite the fact her wounds had mostly healed she was still self conscious. The stitches in what was left of her ring finger had been removed the sevenday before the Masque, and the skin that had grown together over the stub and where her pinky was missing were bright pink and quite sensitive. It was hard for someone as focused on their looks as she was to put her imperfections out there for so many others to see… especially since the mauled hand and her hair would be dead giveaways, there was no hiding her identity. Still she couldn’t stay hidden in her weyr or the burgundyrider’s weyr forever; she needed to get out and about, she needed to look past what had happened and the difficult recovery to the future.

A future, she wagered, she’d be sharing with C’lainn. Taking a long sip of wine from her glass she twirled slowly, blue eyes peering from behind her mask and over the rim of her glass to see if she could spot the man in question. She wanted to see his face the moment he saw her for the first time in his gift, the other gift he’d given her turns before affixed around her right wrist, the pale metal of the bracelet contrasting gently against the golds in her dress.

@RhiaBlack [We can always take this one-on-one too!]


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Zane
 Posted: Feb 14 2018, 10:17 PM
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Weyrling





Hero of Time


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Everane was beyond excited. Ever since she'd heard about the Moon Masque, she'd been racing around in preparation for the week-long event. The confirmation that Candidates could go had eased her prior concern, and become the motivating force behind her completing her mask project. She had collected many different materials to make it, wanting to create something more than just a two-dimensional piece. She wanted to show off a bit of her character, and express the fact that she appreciated a little extravagance. Always pushing that extra mile, in many aspects of her life, Everane's mask came to be quite the piece of self-expression.

She knew the rules, she'd replayed them over in her head with a tone of bitter sarcasm. She was Ruane's sister after all, and therefore rebelliousness ran in her blood. It wasn't even that she wanted to cause anyone trouble, or bring attention to herself (well, maybe a bit of attention). It was more, in truth, that she had never been wooed by a member of the opposite sex. She had never gotten to dance with a boy, or hold hands with a boy. She had never been kissed. It was daunting, to say the least, knowing that she was soon to be fifteen. She should have kissed a boy by now, right?

The eve of the Moon Masque came quickly. A part of her wondered, to save herself some embarrassment, if she should ask Osario to go with her. She doubted that her fellow candidate was free--not with that style. Osario had probably devised the most eye-catching outfit, and would no doubt be drowning in suitors before long (if she wasn't already).

Everane knew she was short, and wasn't sure whether "pretty" was a word that anyone would attribute to her person. She had been called "cute" plenty of times, though that was usually by older folk trying to make nice with her parents. No boy had ever called her cute. Ruane had, but that certainly didn't count (and she wasn't sure her sister had meant it in earnest). Boys didn't go for cute anyhow. Boys wanted women, not girls, and she was, without a doubt, an over-spirited girl.

Her mask was, in part, inspired by Couineth. She had tried to imagine what the gold herself might like, given the assortment of scarves and finery she had collected for her over the months. Couineth's stash must have been overflowing by now. She had worked hard to earn the golds approval. Couineth deserved some spoiling, even if she was already as spoiled as they came. The soft outline of gold around the left side payed tribute to Dalibor's queen. The staunch whiteness was a fair representation of Everane herself. There was a purity, perhaps a naiveness, about her. She had yet to abandon her youthful innocence, regardless of being tainted by unforeseen circumstance. The touches of black around the outer edge gave the mask contrast. The right side was by far the most eye-catching. In an attempt to artfully lend visual representation to her free spirit, she had made a bugs wing over and under the eye piece. It flared out, well beyond the bounds of the mask, fashioned with stones and lace patterns. She had spent what felt like forever working on it. She'd wanted it to be just right, and what better occasion was there to show off a hidden talent?

She had done her best to match her dress with her outfit, which had required reworking one of her fancier, white, dresses. She had picked it up at the gather, and sought out the extra fabric from various crafters. She didn't want to make herself look gaudy, or have her dress appear overdone. At the same time, her desire to be creative had run away with her. She'd wanted to ask for Osario's help, but at the same time she'd wanted to feel as if she could do it herself. By the time she was finished, she'd been staring at the dress so long that she could hardly tell whether or not she'd done a satisfactory job. She supposed time would tell.

Once she put on her dress, her outfit was complete.

When the small blond entered the dining hall, she made sure to follow Ulian and Rivath's instruction. She got herself signed-on, and set her shoulder knots. She was a candidate, even tonight. She was proud of her role, and so there was nothing, really, to hide. Chances were, many of her fellow candidates had chosen to go as well. Was it possible that she might recognize some of them? She wasn't sure whether she wanted people to recognize her or no. She supposed her voice was higher-pitched, and somewhat distinct. She was small, in build and height, and could hardly be mistaken for a woman. Enviously, she gazed about at some of the women who had gathered. Many of them were already accompanied by gentlemen who had, no doubt, asked them prior to the event.

Making her way out into the center of the room, the girl of fourteen wondered whether or not the evening would be everything she hoped it to be... A part of her wanted to reach out to Couineth as the gold bespoke them all, but it wasn't the time or place to do so. She would have to save her idle chitchat for later, and work up the courage to approach a boy. Standing there uncertainly, Everane peered around at all those gathered. More and more people began to flood in, but she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that many of them already had their eyes on someone.

@Open
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Harbinger
 Posted: Feb 15 2018, 12:56 PM
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Priderunner





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Emira
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The other Weavers had insisted. Sure, Emira was a bit young, but that didn't mean she couldn't mingle. Find some friends. Maybe find a special someone to spend later turns with. Emira was aghast at the idea of going out in public, masked or not, and showing herself off. She was not a figurine. Still, kind little Emira couldn't say no when they twittered over her, marking her lips and cheeks with rouge, finding a lovely pink dress with fine embroidery and lace accents. How they managed to find a matching mask was completely beyond her.

With Maeda as her jewelry - how she found Impressed the Pink was still beyond her; the fact that she Impressed anything had flipped her world upside-down - she slinked through the cavern, hiding along the edge of the dining hall. She should get something to eat, really, but that could wait, right? Eventually, the Weaver found herself a little spot where she could watch without being too conspicuous. The pink and white wallflower pressed herself against the stone, silent save for the occasional croon by her baby firelizard.



Laerien
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No sex, no wine, yadda yadda rules. Things he had heard a million times and obeyed no matter how much he had wanted to give them a try. He confirmed his identity, made his solemn promise to act like a proper candidate should, and then weaved his way through the crowd. Mirthful blue eyes scanned for someone, anyone; Laerian wasn't being too picky, though he had been favoring soft or curved masks that juxtaposed his sunburst one. The other person ought to be interesting if they had a different taste.

Speaking of taste, the food was much too temping to ignore. He wriggled his way towards the tables, stopping first at the dessert table to grab a few dainties to snack on. The kitchen staff had really outdone themselves, he decided, as he very carefully took a bite of a fruity piece. He had to be extra careful not to stain the lovely topaz tunic he wore! Back into the crowd he went, seeking a partner to chat with, dainties prepared to tempt and bribe with.


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Zane
 Posted: Feb 15 2018, 01:51 PM
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Weyrling





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She might have to be the one to make this happen--she knew that. The concept of rejection didn't ordinarily scare her. She was fully capable of incorporating the "if at first you don't succeed try, try, try again" philosophy. The small blond tended to bounce back right quick, but romance was foreign to her. She had made several buddies thus far, equal parts boys and girls. It wasn't as if boys scared her, though there was something ever so mysterious about them. They were a puzzle that required a bit of careful handling--which was likely what boys thought of girls like her.

So, she continued to look over the crowd for someone likely to approach. None came, and so she prepared herself to make a move. There was a young man wearing a distinctly golden mask. It caught her eye immediately, and so she waited a moment to see if he was with someone. After mere seconds of observing the boy, she walked on over. "Uh... hey. The food sure does look good," she announced, looking past him to where the food tables were presented. He had some sweets on hand, which said a great deal about his intelligence (at least in her opinion).

There was soon a grin to be found upon the girls face as she regarded him, hoping to catch his blue-eyed gaze. She supposed, unlike most other times, introductions were unnecessary. She didn't waste time trying to find out who he was, since there was something quite appealing about not knowing. If they didn't get along, they may very well never have to speak to one another again. Rather than trying to gain the knowledge of his identity, she focused on his features. He was undeniably handsome, and his mask was skillfully crafted. Friends Ever... friends are good, she told herself, gaze sliding to the young mans shoulder knots. Oh... he was a candidate. Suddenly the thought that he may very well know her dawned upon her. Ignoring the light blush that rose to her cheeks, the shorter girl waited for the mystery-boy to form a reply.

@Harbinger
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Captain
 Posted: Feb 15 2018, 02:53 PM
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Navenax
@Harbinger

Emira wasn't safe. Not when Navenax and his boundless joy was around. He'd seen her around, worked with her a few times, and generally liked the much quieter girl. But then, he liked pretty much everyone.

So, when he spotted her at this oh-so-exciting festivity, he zeroed in and popped up beside her, dressed in a brilliant purple with a mask that was equally vibrant and adorned with lace. A bit feminine, perhaps, but everything about the man was effeminate so it suited. His fingers were, of course, dyed to match, but that was a happy accident and bits of green, yellow and red peeked out around his wrists.

"Emira! Hello! Have you found anyone to dance with yet?" He grinned, Dye peeking up from beneath his long hair, which was brushed until it shone. The little blue chirped happily and crawled forward to inspect the tiny pink.

Baria
@RhiaBlack / Kind of open?

She wore Western's colours and a mask that looked like one of her husband's howlers done up in similar colours. She thought it was very clever and had been pleased with his response upon seeing it. Baria had been equally thrilled at the ride on dragonback over, though the woman that rode the blue had been less than cordial. That was no matter, they were here now and enjoying the festivities. Being surrounded by so many firelizards and weyrlings and wherlings was... Overwhelming wasn't the right word. Exciting? Perhaps. Enthralling would have suited better, but Baria was doing her best not to stare.

Being in such close proximity to the beasts that protected her home was exciting to say the least and she found herself engaging any rider, handler or candidate that lingered too close in conversation. This usually involved dragging her ever-suffering husband after her.

After she'd cornered a very handsome man with about a million black firelizards - Whom she would later learn was a brownrider - and politely asked after his dragon and how he fared and any other question she could think of that was polite while the man just looked amused and gave her hand a parting kiss before he bid farewell, she turned on Basasius.

"We should find some wine. Oh, this is absolutely so much fun!"



Captain's Crew
Pressganged - Captain's Wanteds
Lady Holder Baria of Western
X'vir of Brown Oth | Ems of Blue Kapth | Wa'ut of Blue Qith
L'ru of Green Syrath | Z'ant of Green Lyraleth
Zaela of Pink Nektisuth | Qivi of Black Dekandaeth | V'ax of Cyan Purlalith
Vatalian of Orange Vatask | Pavir of Blue Pavisk | Setarii of Black Setask
Inali, Havenrute, Navenax, Felrin, Uonai
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Rii
 Posted: Feb 15 2018, 08:40 PM
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Jr. Weyrwoman





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Jali was having one of those moments. The kind where something seemed like a good idea at the time, but as soon as you did it, you realized everything that could possibly go wrong with it. What if he was upset? What if he realized that this wasn't something he wanted after all, what if-

The shock - and the joy that followed - were everything Jali could have hoped for, banishing the last of her worries that Armon was only doing this for her sake. Which was a foolish worry, because she knew he'd agreed to it and had been hoping for it and trying with her... well, the trying had more benefits than just the hoped-for outcome, but that was beside the point.

Laughing, she wrapped her arms around the smith as he lifted and spun her. Fifty was creeping up faster than she ever wanted to think about, but for the moment, she felt like a young newlywed instead. This was theirs, something that they did for themselves instead of for the good of the Weyr. It was only fair, after literal Turns of trying, that they got to revel in it a bit. "I am. You are." Her half-mask couldn't hide the brilliance of her smile.

She found herself laughing all over again at the joyful flow of questions and plans that followed. I love you so much. "Until about midwinter or a few sevendays before, at our best guess. They didn't say much aside from that we both seem healthy, I may need to rest more as I get close, but for now I can do everything I normally need to do." Thankfully so, there always seemed to be so much to do.

@RhiaBlack

***

N'oir's attempt at escaping failed - but only because Xel was so quick to follow him. He didn't really expect his longtime friend to corral him into a quiet corner to talk. Throw the knots in his face and curse him out, maybe. Talk, no.

His cheeks - the bits not covered by his mask, anyway - betrayed that he was blushing. "A mistake," he blurted back in a whisper. "Kind of like the rest of me. I just meant to bring you your knots, Xel, I just don't want you to get caught or get in trouble when you're so close to being free from weyrlinghood and rules and people expecting things out of you, please."

He ran his hands through his hair. "I almost got you in worse trouble and I'm sorry, I really am, it was this impulse, I wanted to but... not... yet." He was blushing harder now for having blurted out the truth. He liked Xe'rik. He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd known, turns, anyway - even going back to before Uqetcanqeth came along. Friendship? Loyalty? Well, yes, of course - but he'd sunk a lot of extra feelings because he didn't stand a chance, not with the Xel he knew, admired, sympathized with, took care of.

"Not while it's still a danger," he mumbled, then hung his head.

Boop! The pink dropped down from the sky, landing near Byth. Hello, hello. Were you looking for me, or would another make three? She giggled. Let's talk, you and I. We can figure things out without the humans.

***

At least since he'd seen her with her mask on before it covered her face, it was easy to find her. Not that he wouldn't have recognized her anyway - she just stood out, okay, at least in his eyes. Call it attention to detail.

H'ler circled around the edge of the dining hall with its happily socializing and dancing clusters and couples. Ugh. This was absolutely ridiculous, he couldn't believe he was doing this. Making a fool out of himself for anyone wasn't something he did easily. And yet, here he was, with a mask on his face, pretending that no one could recognize him when he was one of maybe a handful of riders and handlers who needed a cane to walk.

"Wine works better when you drink it," he pointed out as he halted next to Yrsavild, bracing his walking stick firmly near his weaker leg. "Let's pretend that you don't know me, for a moment." The cyanrider snagged a full glass from a tray. "Have you eaten yet? The food is supposed to be exceptional, tonight." There was no use even pretending that he'd ask her to dance. Not when his leg always bothered him worse in the evening than it did in the morning.

@Ruin


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Catsitta
 Posted: Feb 15 2018, 09:12 PM
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Weyrlingmaster





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The prickly response did not phase the harper. He rocked onto his toes, ready to try charming the lovely lady into just a little dance, when a flit adhered itself to his chest. Pesky creature attacked the beads on his attire. Oh dear. Zen chuckled as the woman rescued him and checked his person, clearly flustered by the turn in events. She hid it. How cute.

"I am quite alright, my sweet," he simpered. Okay, maybe he was laying it on a touch thick now. "A few stray threads are all the damage done. Not even a bead out of place." He flourished a hand over his chest, as if to emphasize their existence. Zeniro reached out again, "How about a little turn for a few measures, hm? All will be forgiven and I get the honor of dancing with one as lovely as yourself. Don't be shy. If it worries you, I see nothing you need to hide."

If this effort failed, he would desist. Zen wasn't going to pester a woman that had no interest in his flirtations.

@Captain



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Harbinger
 Posted: Feb 16 2018, 05:37 PM
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Priderunner





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Xavinyra
Open, slight tag @Ruriko

Xavinyra was, indeed, dressed up and scrubbed clean, unlike her sister's expectations. Certainly not in a dress, but in fine pants and a tailored vest on that hid her figure but not in a displeasing way. From a distance, the Beastcrafter probably looked male, but she didn't care. This was a time to be dressing up the way one wanted, and today Xav wanted to be straight lines and monochrome. The mask she had found matched her black and white outfit just fine.

Others may be mingling, but the dual candidate had decided her own priorities for the evening. First: dinner. It was a feast, after all. Not that she piled her plate; a slice of herdbeast, some tubers and fingerroots, salad... a light meal, all told. After all, there would surely be dancing later and she would not be weighed down by that. Plate and klah in hand, she went and plopped herself into one of the nearest empty seat, glancing around at any table mates she may have just made.



Caelen
Open

Unlike his wallflower sister, Caelen wasn't hanging out at the edges of the crowd because he was afraid. A little hesitant, perhaps, but not scared. He was trying to look for familiar faces in the flood of masked people, a vain effort, but a bit fun none the less. Guessing who was who out of the hundreds of people attending... well, Caelen knew a fraction of them, so it wasn't successful, but interesting.

Eventually the candidate stepped forward, passing through the milling crowd. Perhaps someone would see through his black and blue mask, but he was having trouble. Eventually he found a mask that seemed interesting, and stopped before the owner with a polite half-bow.

"Good evening. Enjoying the masquerade?"



Laerien
@Zane

Hmm... surely there was someone...

It took Laerien a moment to place the voice he heard, turning his attention downward towards the comparatively tiny girl that had approached him. A broad smile spread across his face, eyes sparkling.

"Yes it does," the candidate replied, holding out the small plate of dainties he had been carrying. "Care to try one? The jelly ones are really good." He would wait until Everane picked one, if she chose to, before nabbing another for himself and popping it into his mouth.

"Excited for the festivities?" he asked once his mouth was empty, hidden eyebrows raised inquisitively. "I'm hoping there's dancing..." Laerien let that sentence fall off wistfully, wondering how the girl would reply. He noted she was a candidate as well, so dancing would be all if they ended up spending the evening together. Maybe. The night was young.



Emira
@Captain

Gaze directed elsewhere, it wasn't until Nave said her name that Emira was aware of his presence. She squeaked in surprise, which caused a squeak from Maeda followed by a gentle croon intended to calm the pallid weaver. Emira reached up to pet the Pink, soothing herself and the flitt. She then turned her gaze on the person that had recognized her - not a surprise at all - and ended up doing the same. There weren't many long-haired, hand-stained folk living in the Weyr.

"Hello sir," she replied with a tiny bow. Maeda cheeped a greeting to both man and flitt. Emira couldn't help but be formal, both because of the atmosphere and the fact that Navenax outranked her. Politeness was always a part of her.

"N - no, sir. I think I'll... I'm planning to just watch." She glanced up at him, hoping that the answer was acceptable. "Are you enjoying the masquerade?"


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Ruriko
 Posted: Feb 16 2018, 07:55 PM
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Weyrlingmaster





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S'vor - @Ivy

The first of the man's 'victims' was a one whose pretty dress and mask caught his eye. She was wearing quite a fetching dress, and though he knew her not, it mattered little! He was not so inebriated yet that he would begin failing to notice if a man or woman came with a partner. A tall, fit individual of his age hardly got drunk off of a few glasses of wine! So, he strode over with perfect confidence to the unattended individual, snatching up a glass of wine for her should she want it--and hopeful that she might!--on his way over.

"Good evening, my lady. I have brought you wine and would be honored if you would have a drink and perhaps a dance with me. His eyes twinkled quite merrily, ever as flirtatious and dashing as a boy half his turns--though there was hardly any mistaking the tall Weyrlingmaster for a boy. Just past thirty turns of age, he was most certainly a man, and not a boy at all. At closer inspection, she was not a stunning beauty, but neither was she homely. Pretty enough, with an average build, eyes of a pleasant blue-green in color, full lips and looking like she might be around twenty three or so, in his opinion...she would do for a companion for the evening, if she'd have him! Truth, she might know of his reputation. That would either favor him towards her or quite the opposite! Still, he had only asked to share a drink and a dance. Harmless, yes? He would behave...mostly. At least until it was clear whether she wanted his attentions or not. He'd like to think most would, but that was merely because he was that confident!

His hand held out the other glass of wine elegantly, standing a full foot taller than she as he looked down at her with a rather charming--if not slightly mischievous--smirk. There seemed to be a lot of candidates and weyrlings, or wherlings, and it was a disappointment. Many looked over eighteen, after all, and yet were lost to him. He would not hit on them, and they all wore knots. There was no way to say he 'didn't know' when they all wore knots. Not much fun, that. Still, it was for the best. In his new position, and even in his old, he would not be doing more than the mildest of flirtations and perhaps gracing them with a dance or two. He'd do much, much more with those who were not any of those things.




Caden - @Harbinger

The drudge she'd carried some dishes in to aid did little more than motion to the pile of dishes, before heading back out without a word to her. She understood it was busy, and had little issue with his actions. Placing the dishes down, she glanced around the kitchens. What was she even doing here? She'd come at her Master's behest, but she didn't belong here at all. She ought to just get some food and seat herself off in a corner somewhere. There were too many people here. It was stifling, nearly. She suddenly craved the open air and a world without stone walls.

Exiting the kitchens, she was about to head to the tables to do exactly as she'd planned: get some food, and sit down and out of the way. If she chose a corner, she'd have more space. Relatively few people were sitting at some of the tables. The night was young, and they were mostly congregated about the dance floor. Yet, as she was about to move, someone suddenly stepped in front of her, bowed, and spoke. It caught her off guard. The way she was dressed, and with the mask she wore, the last thing she had been expecting was for anyone to approach her. It was only because she was momentarily startled that she replied without thought.

"Are you?" The answer was out of her mouth before she gathered her wits, and there was no taking it back. She'd answered his question with a question, she realized. She had no time for men--or women. Still, she was here, was she not? She could hardly be rude unless someone gave her a reason to. This particular individual didn't have the look of many of the men here tonight. His expression was decisively polite, and open. If he'd been leering or looked as if he was fixing to hit on her, she might have cut him off with curt, clipped words of disinterest. Yet he had been nothing but polite...for now. Her eyes rested upon the knots at his shoulder, and she felt herself relax--a little. A candidate. Safer, by far, than a rider or crafter, or weyrfolk. "You're a candidate," she spoke, both as a reassurance to herself, and perhaps a reminder to him. It was clearly rhetorical, but she was trying to keep her tone neutral...polite. She didn't want to be here, speaking to anyone. Yet wasn't that the purpose for which her Master had suggested she come here? Logic dictated she ought to at least try. Inwardly, she wanted to retreat.
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summerrain
 Posted: Feb 16 2018, 08:45 PM
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Caliska @Ruriko, open

She had never worn anything quite so... extravagant before. Though her dress was far from the most intricate she saw. It had taken a bit of convincing on Malika's part to get the stubborn huntress to agree to such a thing. And then, finding a dress for the girl who had never worn one was another challenge. Eventually, she had decided on a dress the color of red wine, with a floral rose pattern on the skirt outlined in black. Her mask had inverted the red-and-black, instead being black with a swirling red pattern. How she's managed to secure such an intricate dress and mask in such a short time, she still didn't know.

When Malika spotted her, Caliska faced the other trader and gave her a small smile. It was nice to be called friend by someone who wasn't related to her. She was puzzled, then, why Mali had offered to get her a drink. "Why not go together, instead?" she suggested, a hint of hesitation in her own voice. "Isn't gettin' drinks s'posed to be what you do for someone you're romantic'ly seein' anyway?" Not that she knew all that much about romance to begin with. Trading caravans weren't exactly the best of places to find such, after all.
___________________________________

Adaya: @Ruriko, @Lynn, open

She'd been hesitant to go, even though she'd ended up accepting the invitation. She still remembered the other girl's reaction to Shay, who still refused to let Adaya go anywhere without her. She'd received a surprise parcel from her siblings in Fort after writing them about the celebration, which included a pale blue and silver dress and matching mask, along with the well-wishes of her sisters and brother. She already stood out in a gathering like this, her dark skin set next to so many who were paler than she was, some far paler. Why not make herself stand out even more with a pretty dress?

She hesitantly approached where Taylei was waiting, her ever-present Red around her shoulders, her Brown pillie Fruity in his usual spot on her back, and her Grey pillie Scuttle in her usual spot right in the middle of her chest. It was somewhat awkward for Adaya in her dress, but Scuttle absolutely refused to stay in any other spot for very long.
_____________________________________

Tallis: @Ruriko, open

She had bought more than she'd expected to with the coin she'd managed to save. Not only had she been able to surprise her sister with a dress and mask, but she'd managed to find one of each for herself as well. Unlike Rae's pretty blue dress, her own was gold with black accents, and had been a surprisingly good deal. Her mask was of a similar pattern, and far simpler than the one her sister wore. She hadn't bothered for larger masks adorned with decorative feathering or beading, as a few distinct items marked her as apart from the crowd. The Candidate knots on her shoulders, required for attendance by all Candidates, and the small Pink flit on her shoulder, nestled against her neck. Hope, the newest addition to her small family.

With little Rae clinging to her skirt, she led the way to the feast. After a moment, the girl released her grip and struck out alone. Tallis couldn't help the smile that came unbidden to her face. Neither of them knew many people yet, and it was good to see her trying to meet new people. Perhaps, since she'd decided to leave Tali in the crèche tonight, she would meet someone new as well.


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Aerona
 Posted: Feb 17 2018, 01:02 AM
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Wingrider





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Sev'ren was wearing his best outfit. Black was the color of course, because black was his color, and well it was also Varith's color. He was wearing a mask of bright white, a stark contrast against his dark hair and the black of his outfit. It was in the shape of the one of the small furbeasts. The fabric he wore was light and fit tight against him. He strode over towards someone and began to chat away. This was his first time in a new Weyr and a masquerade to boot! He was going to make friends, and lots of them. Varith was pouting about the move and change but the black could hardly complain too much. He would rather be sleeping somewhere, but this was something new and exciting, so he was going to enjoy it.

I want to go home

"This is our home now, let's enjoy it, I'm sure you will do well here. Besides, I get to have some fun, and right when we get here too."

hmmph

He quickly went and found himself some wine and a few pieces of bread to stuff in his face. He went to reach for something else to shove into his face when his hand touched her's. "Oh, sorry, you go ahead." He said, pulling his hand back. "I'm new to this Weyr, but it seems like a fun place." He said, giving a smile.

@Jenn
------------------------------------------------------------------

Nari was here at the masquerade, and she was only here because Nav had begged her to come with her. He had begged her to come and now the little brat was not where she could find him. She frowned and frowned hard. Her hair for once was down, flowing over her shoulders in it's golden brown color. She was hard to miss with such bright hair, as Nav should have been, but in the bright sea of colors he was, well, missing. She began her search, blue eyes under a Leather Mask of gold and red bright as ever. She wore a red leather corsette style top, with a leather and sheer fabric skirt below it. She looked like an entirely different person, not the woman that needed to have her clothes just as efficient as she was.

A satchel was at her side, Suede her newest flit tucked away into it so she wouldn't be scrambling all over her. Tanner was settled on her shoulder when he wasn't darting off to snatch a piece of food here or there off an unguarded stranger. She frowned as she began to search for him, the skirts flowing behind her, her leather shoes creaking as she walked. Where was he? "Nav?" she tried. She swore by the egg she was going to kill him if he abandoned her. She hadn't wanted to come, but he had insisted upon it!

[@Jenn] @Captain?


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Meloneth
 Posted: Feb 17 2018, 03:01 AM
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@Harbinger

Helios and Glinda twirled about the head and masque of their master, creeling happily. His mask was done in pink and yellow to match them, touched and scaled with silver. Shimmering brown cloth was sewed along the rim, dancing in the light of both glow and torch.

"Hello!" he called to Caelen, executing a slight dancing leg, joyous at the wonders of the masquerade.
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Zane
 Posted: Feb 17 2018, 01:21 PM
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She had written a goldentine for two people. One was a boy who rode upon viridian wings, and the other was a woman whose responsibility to the Weyr was far too great. She already had children of her own to concede, and even that Asha could tell was causing her difficulty. She would not burden her, but rather keep a respectable distance. She may find comfort in the woman's gold, at some point, if it suited her...

For now, the dark-haired girl was wandering through the crowd. She ran her hand along the fine linens that trailed over the edges of the food tables, her mind buzzing with unspoken declarations. She had come to imagine what her elder sisters goldentine might say, if she were here to write one. She had received no communication from her, upon her having left to be with their aunt. She hoped that she was well--that both of them were, and had found happiness in one another's company. She bore no ill will towards either of them, for resentment was a wasteful emotion.

She picked out several of the pairs that had come to join together. Any who glanced her way would find her expression difficult to place. It was evident that she was seeking something--at least to her. She may not find that something here, but she knew that she had to try. Phantom was back in the creche, tired from a long day of training and play. The girls flits, lest they give her away, were also elsewhere. Faros had been rather insistent upon accompanying her, but she had exerted her will. The burgundy, no doubt, would be keeping an eye on Oblivion.

Her colors were dark, which may have not well suited the occasion... Given the sheer number of light and dark shades among those gathered, she supposed that her head to toe black might not be received too poorly. Her mask was heavily-detailed despite its small size. Her jet black hair had been put up, rather than being left to drape over her shoulders as it usually was. Even the ties at the back of her head were a solid black in color, and therefore blended in with dark locks.

She realized that the only pair of eyes she wanted to capture among the sea of people was Ly'on's. She didn't always have to say much when he was around. The times when she did have to speak, he was eagerly listening. He wanted to understand, which was such a rare trait. The boy created an ease within her, and she had foolishly come to depend upon it. The girl tentatively smoothed out her black dress.

@Rowana @Open
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Ruriko
 Posted: Feb 17 2018, 10:05 PM
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Weyrlingmaster





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@RhiaBlack

Though it could hardly be known to the candidate who sat in front of him, indulging in his food, Keirian appreciated that his table companion was not the sort to natter incessantly. He had little use for those that did--unless it was information they offered up. That could always be stored away, and put to good use at a later time. He had noticed the focused way in which the younger teen ate, without even sparing so much as a glance upwards. For Keirian, who wanted to be where he might overhear gossip, receive attention, and yes, even bed someone if he so chose...he had no qualms with their present location. He had no inkling that Kyzekeidon did not share that sentiment.

While the Journeyman liked to think he was a forward-thinking individual, perhaps 'open minded' was more the word one would have chosen. To new ideas, and thoughts, once implanted. Yet he was prone to common assumptions, still. Even though it chafed him to ever admit such a thing. He did enjoy philosophical and psychological conversations--more knowledge, yet again. Yet he had found people were not often hard to figure out. A man like Z'dyn hardly seemed the kind of man who was given to artistic or creative pursuits of the artistic nature. That did not mean Keirian took him for unintelligent. Far from it. Since Keirian had interests and facets of his personality that were far from what one might have expected to find, he certainly wasn't closed-minded enough to not know the same could be said for any person. To the dark-haired teen's words regarding not needing marks, Keirian had to stifle a 'snorting' sound.

He did not assume the young man had been spoiled, for it was only of recent his father had become Weyrleader. By this point, he had been here a full two seasons. He had casually garnered information on anyone of import. As the Weyrleader's son, and of a personal curiosity to the Journeyman, he had of course obtained basic information about Kyzekeidon. Son of an ironrider and a redrider. Both parents dragonriders. Now his father was Weyrleader. He knew who the boy's grandfather was well enough. Keir had already prior been told that Z'dyn would buy his son an expensive beast--an icehowler--by the boy himself. He had gotten it, too. It was not clear, to the older teen, if need and want were synonymous to the candidate. He hadn't needed the icehowler. Yet his father, the Weyrleader as of now, had run and got it for him. The way he spoke, it was difficult to tell if he was speaking as a spoiled brat, or merely stating the he had what he needed. The use of the titles Weyrleader and Master, as though to state his family was in a position to give him anything he wanted, might have been bragging. It might have simply been fact.

"What indeed. Seems you get whatever you want," came the reply, neutral in tone. The fact that the Weyrleader's son was messing around during candidacy with no real repercussion...yet another indication, in Keir's surmising, that the younger teen was spoiled in certain ways that others were not. Even if he'd known Kyzekeidon had not been actually caught in the act, the tall, blue-eyed Journeyman knew candidates who had merely stolen a touch or a kiss that had been reprimanded for it. Having sex was a risk of being removed from candidacy altogether. If Z'dyn knew his son was doing so, and more than once...well, naught had been done about it, now had it? He got what he needed--or wanted--and was held to a lower standard than other candidates. That was all the Journeyman could gather from what he knew. Still, in truth? He didn't really care. He'd have likely got up to the same in Kyzekeidon's position. The boy could hardly be blamed for getting away with what he could, and taking advantage of his elevated position. Still, things were not so black and white. There was a lot of 'possibly' and 'guessing' in that. He would, of course, be digging deeper. Knowing was preferred to speculating. Keirian shrugged. "better to have them for when you might need or want them, than to not when the time comes you wish you had." Taking a sip of the wine, he swallowed and looked out over the dining hall momentarily. More and more people were filing in. He returned his gaze to the young man across from him.

"Funny, I don't remember ever telling you I thought that," came the reply, gaze flat and unimpressed. Nor had he. "I asked a question, and I know who your grandfather is. He's quite the subject of interest with some after he Stands bonded that black wher at his age," he commented, though his tone said that it hardly interested him much at all. People could bond whers at any age, in any craft. People in all kinds of crafts had Impressed dragons--and some of them from the Stands. "Your grandfather's a Tanner, sure. It's a kind of creativity--but it doesn't take creativity to be a Master, if that's what you're implying. I don't see your father drawing, painting, making masks. It's got nothing to do with his intellect if he doesn't. Or his creativity insofar as what he does do with it. Anyone who thinks your father has the mind of a 'dray beast' is a sharding deadglow." It was said as an unarguable fact--and it was. Z'dyn was no fool. Those sharp eyes didn't seem to miss much. Keirian still didn't see him as being creative in the artistic sense, but he would have allowed for the fact he might be incorrect on that.

It wouldn't have surprised Keirian to know Kyzekeidon was just as capable of assuming what another was thinking or what they were like as he himself sometimes did--often enough to annoy himself, at that. He had not been told the information which was imparted next, yet his expression betrayed none of his thoughts on it. "You and probably a fair few other candidates," he acknowledged. "Quite a few apprentices are crafters as well, I'm informed. Not so uncommon. Did you expect that to be a revelation?" One eyebrow raised ever so slightly, and he regarded the darker skinned young man otherwise impassively. Still, there were layers to the candidate that kept his curiosity piqued, and so, "do you plan on pursuing that past Impression? Or is it your back up plan?" If he said it was his back up plan, that would tell the Journeyman that he didn't just simply expect he would Impress, simply because of who his father was. Entitlement was common enough among those who came from dragonriding parents, never mind being the Weyrleader's get.

Keirian did crack a grin then, and nearly laughed. "You're an astute one. Doesn't seem he is, does it?" Then, more seriously, but still sporting a slight smirk, "not everyone. Some people aren't interested in 'shacking up' with anyone they're not smitten with. Never understood it, personally. Sex and that often coveted thing they call love aren't one and the same. Some people digress." He shrugged his own shoulders, once more glancing in the direction of the ever-growing sea of masks. "Then there's those that don't want it from anyone. Incomprehensible, really." He certainly didn't understand it. What healthy, warm-blooded creature didn't feel lust or need? Didn't want to get laid? No matter how it was explained, that would be one thing Keirian would have a difficult time ever wrapping his mind around--open or not.
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 Posted: Feb 18 2018, 12:11 AM
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Kyzekeidon still didn't understand how so many people seemed to miss that Weyrs were not every-man-for-himself organizations, where one went without because they didn't have the money to buy the best of everything. He'd been born in a Weyr, he'd lived in a Weyr all his life, and been a Candidate as long as he could Stand for Dragons - the Weyr provided his food, his clothing, his basic necessities, so long as he served it to the best of his capacity - in this measure, as a Candidate.

He never wanted for much, because he never wanted much. How anyone could perceive him as spoiled - when he was under a harder microscope than any other Candidate, because of who his father was - he probably would have broken a rib from laughing. As it was, it was a good thing he didn't know what Keirian was thinking. It probably would have made the younger boy simply dismiss the Crafter entirely.

As it was, irritation never made an appearance on the other's face; he was too focused on his food, and had handled more than enough curious youngsters and would-be bullies in his short lifetime to understand how the latter worked. People liked to be right, they liked to look for a rise out of people for the sake of boredom, and Ky was no plaything for anyone. Where his mother had bonded a Red and could be provoked, Ky took after his father in the concept that sometimes people only saw one side of something and came to their own conclusions. Perhaps Keirian thought as he did, perhaps he said what he said, because he either was misinformed, uninformed, or simply was trying to get a rise out of the Candidate.

Either or, Kyzekeidon had no sense of concern. Not until the 'you get whatever you want' lifted itself from the other man's lips. Dark eyes lifted in turn to settle on him.

"And you don't? You must be confusing me for some whiny 'brat. I get what I want, because I don't want much. The Weyr provides what I need, like they do everyone who serves it for whatever role they take. My room's sparse because my father and my mother both taught me you never keep what you don't use. Short of some clothes and Jubilee, and now Rust, the only other thing I have worth anything is the guitar my mother got for me. If I get whatever I want, it's because anyone who knows me, knows I don't want much. Material possessions are useless, you can't take them with you between, well I guess you can, but what good does it solve?"

Kyzekeidon didn't mess around as much as people seemed to think. Then again, the Weyr was full of worrywort sorts with nothing better to do than talk; he'd never been caught, but it wasn't as if he was going out sleeping with everyone at the drop of a hat, either. Plenty of Candidates had, in his time spent as one. Eyes couldn't be everywhere at once, and they were generally the same sort who were troublemakers in more than one way, and either ended up Dragonless, out of the program, or bonded fine and graduated with no issues - kids were kids, teens were teens. Some bucked authority and were dumb enough to get caught. Ky wasn't one of them that was stupid enough to get busted in any measure that could get him kicked, and he'd only misbehaved a couple times; enough to understand what it was they were trying to tell them not to do, and once he realized it wasn't all the runnerdung people cracked it up to be, he'd had no issues dropping it. Something he'd already had the discussion with his father over, but Z'dyn also trusted his son enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Ky understood it, because he knew his father would have no second thoughts about yanking his ass out of the program if it became an issue again, or if there was even an inkling of getting caught.

But there would always be people who thought that because Z'dyn wasn't beating him within an inch of his life every day and putting him to work like a packbeast, that he was getting 'special treatment', or calling him spoiled. Or worse yet, jealous that not only was his father a ranking Weyrleader, but his Grandfather was a Master - and had been lucky enough to Impress.

He took most accusations of the sort with a grain of salt, when they came up. It was something he'd understood might happen when he transferred to this Weyr, and something that he took in stride. Much like everything else.

"I've got no use for 'em," Ky shrugged, reiterating his opinion on the matter for a second time. "I don't need anything desperately enough to hoard them, I have a perfectly good guitar, my grandpa makes anything Rust needs when he has the time. At best I need new clothes, and the Weyr provides that. What I want nicer, I can barter work or chores for. People in this Weyr are too focused on being rich. I never understood it, Papa says ever since that Tanrider was around, that's all anyone seems to care about anymore. Have to be as rich as Q'sis. Have to have the nice things Q'sis had. It doesn't make sense."

Ky snorted.

"Yeah. You asked me if Artistic Skill runs in my family, what does it matter if it does or doesn't? I know plenty of people who don't have any history of Harpers in their families, but they sing pretty good, they can play instruments well. Doesn't matter about the family, matters about the person. And you didn't have to say you thought it, most everyone who's ever asked me that kind of question, they've thought that way. Papa's got a slur. Had it ever since he got hurt, prolly before. Makes sure Keivhyn and I don't talk that way, doesn't want people thinkin' we're dim like they think he is. You might not think he's dimglow, but plenty enough people have, that it's the first thing comes up when someone says something like that." Ky shrugged. "Gotta be a little bit creative to work a craft. To be a Master, sure, Papa said you've gotta stand out. Can't much do that if you're making the same stuff other people make all the time."

The Candidate sucked a bit of meat from between his teeth, not unlike the man who'd sired him.

"Papa's actually got really neat handwriting. Works with Grandpa sometimes, or used to, back before Jysk showed up. Sings sometimes, too. Tells some really good stories, but not so much anymore, he works a lot so there's not a lot of time. Keivhyn told me some of the ones he used to tell him growing up, they're pretty good. My uncle Zadarin was a Harper, too. Really smart, Papa says." He took a sip of his Klah.

"It is uncommon, actually," he snorted again. "This Weyr seems to be full of people who can't accept being a Drudge or someone without a craft. Fort doesn't have near this number of Crafter-Candidates, it's so strange to me. It's like people think being a Drudge is shameful, but Papa was a Field Drudge. I mean, the only reason I became an Apprentice was because I really wanted to play guitar. I couldn't care less about it, honestly, otherwise. I mean, it's a potential fall-back profession, but I'll never go above Apprentice because all I care about is guitar. And I'm okay with that. I wouldn't have even taken an Apprentice position if someone would have taught me without it, you know? But I may just drop the rank and everything as whole. Been a Candidate four turns now, it won't kill me to stay doing Drudgework if I don't Impress - I mean, isn't that what I'm doing now?" Another non-committal shrug. "Probably not. Papa's pretty sold on the idea of me following in his footsteps. I guess that's a parent thing, wanting us to end up better than they were, but it doesn't get much better than where he's at now, I guess. I don't really care. I figure why not, right? I have to do something with my life, can't just be some sort of freeloader that doesn't give back, I wasn't raised like that, so it is what it is. If I Impress, neat. If not, then I'll figure something out. I'm only 14, I've got some time left to worry about it, and it's not like I'm missing out on anything else NOT being a Candidate."

He drained his klah, before refilling it when a weyrfolk came by. The emptied plates were pushed aside in exchange, and he offered a quiet 'thank you' when they cleared them.

"I tried it out to see what the big deal was. Couple my age, right? Wasn't sure what all the ruckus was about, it was kind of boring, to be honest. I mean, I can see why they want us NOT to do it, especially if dragonets are babies like they say they are, it could get confusing, but I don't really see what the big deal is about all of it. I guess it's different if you care about whoever you're doing it with, but I dunno. It was a let down for me." He shrugged. "Eyes can't be everywhere all the time, not since Sebolaren dropped Candidatemaster and all his firelizards went with him, and Papa read me the sharding riot act the other night. Told me I'd not sit for a month and he'd yank me out of the program if I got caught actually doing anything, that's the problem," he shrugged. "You have to be smart enough not to get busted. But it's not hard to behave now that I know what I'm supposedly," he made air-quotes with his fingers, " 'Missing out' on. Everybody has their tastes, I guess, just because I don't see it as a big deal doesn't mean other people don't, so I get what the Candidatemasters are going after. They don't want anyone getting hurt, so it makes sense to make sure we're not being wherrybrained about it."

He shrugged.

"My 'back up plan' right now is the same as what I'm doing now. I either end up with a dragon, or I end up a drudge like Papa. Either way, I guess I like being around dragons enough to stick around. Not really sure where else I'd go."

@Ruriko


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Ruriko
 Posted: Feb 18 2018, 04:36 PM
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@Ivy

There were some who'd offered smiles and nods, and the disconcerting feeling of eyes on him. He was somewhat used to that, since coming here. Still, none had approached to exchange words with him. None, that was, until the voice spoke to him--one that recognized him. A few would, for the same reason as she had. Still, he wasn't going to know for certain unless they spoke to him. He was content to watch, as he always did. He had no need for people and their words. Lykask had asked him to come. He wasn't even sure, still, why he'd humored the blue. He hated crowded places.

"Norla," he returned, gruffly but not unfriendly as it often was. Her words caused a slight upturn at the corner of his lips, and a soft snort. No more than he'd expected to be here. Their sparring lessons were appreciated. There weren't a whole lot of words, and yet, it was more interaction than he had with most--of a kind he understood. Dancing without sticks? Him? He was a quick learner. He had been watching the people dancing. It looked easy, in comparison to the fancier footwork of sparring. Still, he didn't care to learn, because who did he want to even dance with? He didn't dance. Yet, as she left, green-gold eyes were on her back, following her until she disappeared into the crowd.

He felt a stirring in his chest, and elsewhere, and frowned. Why in Faranth's name had watching her retreating form elicited that kind of response? He couldn't have said, but unlike some, he didn't bother to waste his time analyzing it. It simply was, and he accepted it. It wasn't like it had never happened before, after all. Even during sparring lessons. Yet with an activity that got his blood running hot as was, he'd simply attributed it to that and let it be. This, though, was not that. Arms crossed over his chest, he turned to watch others once more.




After the interchange on the hatching sands that day, Dhiren had allowed things to simply fall back into the same way they had been prior to it. He had called them friends, and so they were. Still, while in all propriety, they were indeed that...there was more to it. At least for Ren's part. Norla had done what she ought. What he knew she likely would. True to her position, her loyalties, and her unyielding resolve in regards to the rules, she had told him to 'put it from his mind'. He hadn't needed her answer in words that day, though. He'd needed some sort of assurance that there was something there on her part. He'd suspected it, not because of anything she'd directly said nor done. She could hardly be laid to blame for what her body language betrayed. Her actions had been blameless.

The decisions he made after that day were his, and his alone to make. He would Stand for the next hatching, whatever and whenever that hatching would be. Yet he would then seriously consider, depending on what transpired between then and now, removing himself from the wher program for a time. For a time, because neither now nor in future could he know what would come about. She might not still be showing--innocently as it was--interest in him any longer. She might be with someone else. That caused the most uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling to rise in his chest. A possessiveness that he knew he'd no right to be feeling. A quiet anger, writhing beneath his skin. She was her own woman, and did not belong to him, nor anyone. If she chose to be with another man--or woman...there would be nothing he could do.

You could fight for her.

The thought, also unfamiliar and coming to him unbidden, unsettled him all the more. So many uncertainties. He wasn't even sure what it was he was feeling, let alone being able to comprehend anything that might happen in the future. He didn't know what he was expecting--he'd no right to expect anything at all. Yet as it stood, as a candidate, he might stand to lose the chance to ever find out. He'd come into the wher program do discover what his life might be. What was missing. Yet was it a wher, or a human connection? He was simply taking one day at a time. He was attempting to 'put it from his mind', in a way. Just not the way she'd meant. He simply didn't see the point in overthinking it. Beating a dead runner, as it were, was pointless.

He had decided to do, in the meantime, what he could. What was allowed. This masque was a sort of loophole. Ulian's words about 'chaste kisses', dancing and hand holding...also loopholes. If he stayed within the rules, no matter if she were another candidate, or an Alphahandler, why should there be any repercussions at all, for either of them? He'd toe the line carefully, but they were only human, in the end. If he happened to kiss her, and she happened to do nothing about it save perhaps return it? So long as they were not shoving tongues down one another's throats there on the dining hall floor, and the kiss was 'chaste' enough...well, if she didn't stop him, he would be sure that before the night was out, he'd given her one. He would have no way of knowing it might very well be her first non-run-induced one.

When he saw her--and it was long before she arrived in front of him, he felt a hitch in his breath. She'd never worn something like that before. Appreciation was clear in his expression, and he did not bother to bridle it regardless of her drawing near. When she stood before him, he took her hand and bowed, lips lightly brushing the back of it before he rose once more.

"You look lovely. I didn't think to catch you in something like this." There was a teasing note in that last. He acted as though the actions of the greeting meant little--and indeed, it was a rather formal greeting, a bow and a soft kiss of the hand. Nothing to be reprimanded there. The fine line, as it were, had begun to be walked. He replied to her words with a friendly, easy tone that she would come to associate with his norm. It was the norm for use with her, and usually a more nonchalant one, or unreadable one, was used to address others. Yet she'd no way of knowing that, now had she? "I daresay it is. Just about everyone in the Weyr is here." A slight over-exaggeration. Yet he was sure by the end of it, everyone in the Weyr would indeed be there. "How is Norsk? There's face painting going on just outside. I'm sure he'd look dashing." A teasing grin, there and gone, and then, "can I get you something? Plenty of food...and drink." He, of course, could not partake in the latter. He wasn't even sure if she did drink. It was only the gentlemanly thing to do to offer, however!




Lu'ka turned at the tap on his shoulder, returning the grin with one of his own. It spread further at the sight of the mask the greyrider wore. "Your mask is really something. Where'd you get it?" It had not been among those he'd seen at the stalls, though the dragonrider might have bought it earlier, or perhaps even another turn. At he mention of food, he gave an affirmative nod. "I'm half starved," he admitted. He hadn't eaten yet today, being busy with and somewhat nervous about the up and coming masque. He wasn't even sure why, but he had been. Food sounded like a good idea, even if his stomach felt a little off. Probably, he guessed, because he hadn't eaten!

As they walked to where the food was, it was clear that the kitchen staff had anticipated the sheer numbers that would attend. Even as they drew up to the tables, there were drudges taking away empty trays and dishes, and setting down new ones. Lucky them! Lu'ka grabbed up a plate and then picked up another, offering it to T'vis. "Did you want to sit over there, where it's a bit quieter?" No where would be 'quiet' enough, but there was a section off to the side of the hall that was especially set up for those who wanted to eat and talk. So many voices! Lu'ka had been to all kinds of events and Gathers, yet so many people in just the one area was near overwhelming. It was a good thing the ironweyrling liked people, and didn't mind crowds.

There was so much food there! The best way, Lu'ka knew, to go about loading a plate at any feast was to take just a little bit of each thing. That way, you could try it all. So, that's precisely what the ironweyrling did, putting a bit of this or that onto the plate in small portions. The second go, he would take more of his favorites. The tall young man had an appetite--a bottomless pit of one. For all his activity and height, it was not a wonder. His metabolism had always been quick, as well. All in all, it meant he could eat like a horse with little issue.
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RhiaBlack
 Posted: Feb 18 2018, 10:25 PM
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C'lainn was so incognito, that if it wasn't for the hair and the immense amount of it, he would have been impossible to recognize.

Because the Burgundyrider hadn't only delivered quite a bit on his mask, but also on the surrounding attire. Part Southern Continent Poppo in some mannerisms, the flesh-sacks were somewhat taken into account by the way the neck portion of the mask fell around his shoulders. The back extended into a cloak made of dyed feathers, and ultimately he was just a sight to behold. Once he'd identified himself, he put his costume back together, and ventured out to the festivities; it wasn't hard to find his girlfriend in any measure.

Talking to a Greenrider, no less.

C'lainn wasn't a jealous man, no. He was above that kind of talk, honestly, and didn't partake in the kinds of fisticuffs many slighted men would. After all, Ivy was in a mask, dressed significantly attractively - Lainn took a moment to admire his choice in attire for her, as well as how beautiful it would look coupled with his current get-up on his weyr floor - and wore no visible ring. It was only fair to assume she wasn't taken. He was willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt, but ultimately not the benefit of too many dances with his woman.

He stepped in politely, sliding his gloved hand into Ivy's missing-fingered one, so that it went underneath both of hers.

"If you'll excuse me, Weyrlingmaster," S'vor, according to Tryonilth, was quite a ladies man. Lainn was immediately concerned, but in giving his partner a dress that got his pulse moving, it was only sensible it did the same for other like-minded men, as well. "The lady is taken for the evening, as she's my weyrmate. But I do thank you quite kindly for keeping her entertained while I was sorting myself out with the roster behind the curtain. You have my gratitude."

Lainn moved to guide her away, a smile unseen behind his mask - the encompassment of which allowed only his eyes, blacked by ash to hide the color of his skin from view, and his hair to to be seen - radiant at the fact she looked so absolutely incredible.

"You look positively radiant, you know," he spoke up, hushed as it was, before offering his arm for her to take. "Can you move all right in it? I wasn't sure how tight was too tight, I told them you'd be dancing in it, so to make sure you could still move. How do you feel?"

@Ivy

Basasius had been to a handful of Moon Masques, but this one was his first at a Weyr. His first as a married man, his first as a Lord Holder. Many firsts, this evening, particularly that his wife was so excited to be there. Of course, he would have to corner Rayna at some point, perhaps the other Weyrleadership, in the intentions of further discussion of the coming harvest, the tithes that would be supplied to the Weyr, and various other business matters of that kind - but for now, it was all about spending time with his spouse, rubbing elbows with the rest of those that protected Western from the dangers of the Fall, and ultimately the concerns with not imbibing too much wine.

He'd brought Jakol with them - naturally, Western had a reputation, and his icehowler would make sure both he and his wife weren't ultimately brought any harm when the wine stopped for the evening and the pair retired to one of the guest rooms. But naturally, his pet had found things outside to interest him, and with the known boundary of the Weyr Bowl to contain him, and a collar and harness to identify him as who he was and whom he belonged to, Basasius and Baria were content to occupy themselves with the matters of this evening's entertainment.

The man was clearly not at all entertained with the prospect of flight; he'd clung as respectfully to the dragonrider as he could, and despite his Master's disapproval, the beast he kept had been as gleefully happy about the matter as the man's wife had been. Bas was largely not looking forward to the transit back, but that was a handful of days away, so there was also that to consider. Kennelboys were instructed on what, how much, and when to feed his beasts, and because of that, he worried very little about them. There was never a complete lack of worry, but a worry of lesser quality all the same.

And so, Basasius - wearing a black-and-silver-pinstriped jacket with matching slacks and black wherhide boots, as well as an undershirt that reflected the colors of his Hold - had donned a mask that looked much like the fellow mask his wife wore, reflective of the beasts he kept. With his eyes smeared with ash to darken the holes around them, his eyes quite literally contrasted so sharply, that it was hard to miss them.

With one hand against the small of his beloved's back, he allowed her quite readily to cart him all over creation, following her in every wile she had need to voice, or action she chose to indulge in; he partook of only a single glass of wine, not wanting to lose his edge and thus his focus on either Baria or the intended people he needed to address this evening.

@Captain

Armon did nothing purely for her sake. The man was more than a little selfish, in that everything he undertook, he did if it had some sort of benefit for him. And it certainly did, in the long run - a happy wife, meant a happy life, and even more than that another potential Apprentice in which he could pass down the family information he'd accrued over the turns of his life.

That was to say if the child was interested in Smithcraft at all. Perhaps far too early to tell. Armon doubted, what with the difficulty they had getting this one, that a second was out of the question. They'd have to adopt at that point, most likely, but he didn't mind. One was plenty for him.

"Oh it's such a relief, I was so worried," Armon pulled her close to him, sliding both hands up her back in that way that essentially cradled her to him, "I thought I'd never be able to give you what I know you've wanted, and it was important to me. Now we just have to get them here, and make sure both they and their mother come out of this unscathed. I don't want anything to happen to you."

He drew Jali with him to the dance floor, holding her close to him as he settled into the steps for the music being played; there was nothing that made him happier than dancing with his wife, than being around her - notably where Laanasuth couldn't sit on him. He inwardly stuck his tongue out at the Copper, and it caused the aversion of his eyes instinctively to the door.

"Though I wonder if she'll call our child 'hatchling' since she's prone to calling me Smith...." Armon thought a bit out loud before he realized he was doing it, before sweeping Jali around with him and picking up the tempo. "My darling I've never been so happy in my entire life, I think. I thought marrying you was going to be the happiest day, but now it's one of what I believe will be many."

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Ruin
 Posted: Feb 19 2018, 03:30 AM
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Sebolaren gave back just as good as he was given, but never so much that B'er might try to slither out of going down to the festivities like a very...well...needy tunnelsnake. It had been a long time since he'd had cause for any form of celebration, but this? This was it. Even if it was as simple as being surrounded by friends, sharing in good drink, and good food, and good entertainment. Anything else would be a bonus. Of course, all of B'er's hard work was well and truly undone--at least for a moment--when twenty-eight pairs of wings attempted to find a roost somewhere on their man. They were, after all, the most beautiful of decoration.

"Now, now," the giant chided softly. "Anyone the size of a canine can spend the night bringing me snacks and wine, not hanging all over me." With sighs, soft sad cheeps, and some angry chittering, a third of the wings departed leaving the Handler covered, but with slightly more room to breathe. "Smallest next, I won't have crushing you on my conscience." Another third gone. He looked over what remained. One after another they were dismissed. Some left all on their own, others had to be pushed away with his mind. Too hyper, too skittish, too tricky, too nippy...they all had their ups and downs.

Only Hermie and Feela remained, the light powder Blue, and the bright happy Yellow. "A...his and his, I think," Sebol chuckled, and chuckled the whole way down until they were deposited in front of the Dining Hall. The sweet Yellow settled neatly on B'er's shoulder, and Hermie found the echo in Sebol's shoulder, only to find himself suddenly beaten off by Baro who had appeared quite indignant over being chased off in the first place. He wasn't some roustabout, he might be just a little bit large but what did it matter! At least that was what everyone else probably got out of the squawking as he held tight to Sebol's nearest ear with both paws and screamed

"Yes, yes, alright," the man winced, patting the beast down until it coiled around his neck like a scarf. "Not as becoming as the Blue, I'm afraid," he remarked with some apology to his weyrmate as he took his free hand and joined him in walking into the Hall. "I would like food, and wine, and happy things," and then maybe even happier things, and maybe even second helpings of that. "Do you suppose G'dan will come?"

@RhiaBlack

---

Rivath was dancing on the mountain, and Ulian was watching W'ryn with a quiet patience. They knew how this would go, or were confident enough to assume, and that made them calm. Far calmer than the Bluerider. The mask also hid their smile, which was expansive and had probably bled into their eyes long ago. W'ryn's eyes? Not filled with horror, so things were already going the way the Mindhealer had hoped. So they waited, waited while their White danced and said nothing, simply held the other's still hand and allowed them the time to parse what had been written in the note. Soon it was finished, and Ulian had their answer as the Bluerider did not pull away, but instead fell toward them like a wave coming home on the shore. Their smile was revealed as the mask was pulled away, but their lips were claimed and covered by the other's and they were all reciprocation, wrapping their long arms around W'ryn's back and pulling them close.

It was bliss. Pure and unadulterated. They had known many people since they had come to this place, but Rivath had kept them separated for so long that even old friendships had never been able to flourish beyond that. Clients, acquaintances, budding friendships, but nothing more. Until now. She'd turned a corner, opened up, and danced away from them. Given them both the space they needed to find themselves. She in the sky, and they down here on the ground. Now? They both were near the product of that independence. In many ways, Rivath had needed them as any other had needed them, and they had accepted that as part of who they were, part of their work, their story. Things were being written differently now. They could not rewrite the past, but they could pen a brighter future.

"For as long as it's right," Ulian smiled, reaching out to run a slender finger along the other's sharply defined jaw. "I don't know about scandalizing. Jealous, yes. Torn between the program and finding a love to end all loves, certainly. Scandalized? Hardly. They're a bunch of 'howlers they are, but what of us?" The Healer raised one narrow brow, their eyes dancing out across the gathering. "Shall we depart before the night has begun to ask our questions and find our answers, or shall we mingle and celebrate. Dance?" A more daring smile. "Do you dance as well as you yell, I wonder?" In truth, Ulian would have done a thousand things in that moment, or nothing at all. Sit, dance, go stay, it all made no difference--much like it did to Rivath above--so long as they were with the ones they were currently with.

@Tobes

---

It stung.

Why? Xe'rik was kept silent only by the fact that it had hurt when N'oir had said it was a mistake, and with such conviction. The tempestuous Weyrling considered leaving right there--the old Xel shining through--but he was compelled to stay by an outside force that wasn't him. His eyes narrowed at the realization, but Byth was mirthful where he normally would have been nervous so, again, Xe'rik stumbled in confusion. Too slow to pick up what was happening right in front of him as the Pinkrider continued to stumble through an explanation that could ease what odd wound he'd accidentally laid down from the start.

Not get him in trouble, by getting him in trouble? His Blue-given patience was waning in face of feeling so frustrated and confused, two emotions he'd rarely been forced to deal with in his life from any direction. He was given what he wanted, and did what he wanted, and that was basically where it ended. Yet N'oir persevered, as Byth persevered, as Xel endured the fractions of moments between each word. Watch his conscience encouraged, and the Weyrling waffled on whether or not he wanted to listen before he capitulated and set aside his own needs--and assumed slight--to take a hard look at his long-time friend.

It had never been hard for Nic to rile himself up, one way or the other, whether worry or anger--usually both directed at Xel...sometimes all at once...but this was different. Truly it was. He was...well there were a range of comparisons the Harper could draw but none of them would have done his friend justice, that was for sure, not that it mattered because the realization, while sweeping away all of the frustrated confusion, left him rather dumbfounded.

Byth was laughing in his head. "Are you laughing at me?" he hissed without thinking. Oh he thought to himself before reaching out to grip both of N'oir's shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze even around the knots satchel. He had to clamp down a bit on the urge to shake the other man silly just because...what was even happening? "Hey, no danger here. Not that I'm encouraging rule breaking," that made him laugh, "no of course I am. I know, I know," he preemptively shushed what was a fifty-fifty chance of being yelled at or otherwise chided because dragon lives matter. "No but, he's fine. Surprisingly pleased with himself, why, I don't know. Why is anyone pleased. I am, of course, rambling."

What else could he do but sigh and try to ground himself in the moment, drop some of the pleasantries and focus on what had really happened here. He sighed, long and hard, inching his arm around his friend's shoulder to catch him in a relatively friendly hug lest he had been trying to escape during this entire ordeal. "I don't even know if I'm any good, Nic. Byth tells me I am, the Weyrlingmaster spouts that Ballad-worthy 'dragon's choice' charmer every chance she gets. She is too happy a woman to be a Weyrlingmaster I might add. I don't even know if I'm good enough for my dragon, how could I possibly be good enough for you?"

"Never really thought I was worth anyone," he rolled his eyes slightly, "yes and maybe I didn't think anyone was worth me either somewhere in there but that didn't include you. Not because you aren't good for that...not that I mean that just...a relationship. Look." Xe'rik steeled himself and would have been far to ashamed to admit that he felt quite a lot shy in the moment, but he'd gotten through worse by sheer force and he would be damned if he would not get through this.

Oh she had noticed him. Byth sort of oggled her for one long moment, flexing his limbs in and out of their usual ball-like coil. He may have even slightly hopped away from her, then hopped back so as to not seem rude. It was nice to be noticed sometimes, he supposed, and he had been looking for her, but really only to listen in...and oh this would have been so much easier if his Xe'rik would have just spoken up in the first place but he wouldn't because he was very silly about the smallest things. So was he though, wasn't he. He'd almost gone and forgotten that the Pink was there. His large green eyes blinked slowly, first one and then the other, and then he felt ready.

If his Rider could do it, he could too.

Yes, hello. He is shy, did you know that? It's so nice that he can feel so many things, but it makes it harder for him.

"I'm not very good at this...all of this...when it matters. When it means something. Add in the dragons, and these horrible rules and well. I'm useless. I'd rather have you running my life than Nia, back to the way it used to be. You were much better at it actually," a matter of fact truth that even caused his head to turn as he looked out into open air as if it had only just occurred to him. "You should be a Weyrlingmaster, you'd drive your students mad. There I go, joking with not-jokes, and you, my Nic, have done this to me. Whatever else you think or feel, you probably know better than I do what that means."

---

"Mmm," she said eyeing the glass speculatively as H'ler commented on its preimbibed state. "I find it hard to indulge sometimes. It must be the Healer in me." She tapped her fingers against the clear crystal before resolving to simply hold it for the time being. Still, she was always ready for a game, and if that game was to be the best festival goers that they could, well..she would beat the rest of them. "I have not eaten," her lips pursed as she thought, "I often let my work get the best of me." This was great fun already, with the added personal benefit of knowing she couldn't frighten him away--he already knew what she did in the Infirmary.

"Where should we begin?" There were trays being carried throughout by masked servers, and tables laid out with edible decorations, some in the shapes of dragons and whers built from hundreds of mini pies and fluffy baked goods. It was, she supposed, overwhelming. Especially for Holders and their distant relatives who had traveled from the cotholdings. She side-stepped briefly, her mass of coils bouncing lively around the fiery hues of her dress, to snag a small platter from a passing tray. It held a set of quaint treats on it, and she brought her prize back to him. "I'm not sure I even recognize this," she confessed, but would bravely try it once he'd taken his own so she could set the tray aside and still keep hold of her token wine glass.

"Tell me, stranger, would you be terribly disappointed if we found a good seat in the hall and watched the revelers revel? I spend my days on my feet, and must admit--just between strangers--that my idea of a celebration is being lazy." She smiled, though it might not have looked so pleasant beneath the fiery mask, and curled her free arm lightly around his, should he choose to find an ideal place for them to roost in this room of libations and delights.

@Rii

---

A stranger entered the Dining Hall, remarkable only in that he was a true stranger, but stood out enough to be recognized as such. He wore a mask of pure silver that seemed to drip off one eyebrow to expose the cheek beneath. It was plain, save for how it gleamed in the light, and Crafters would note the work that went into such a piece. More noteworthy were the trio of Iron firelizards that followed the unassuming and of quite average reveler, their wings flashing brightly as they wove in tight circles around him as the room permitted. When the crowd became too much, they alighted one to each shoulder and the third in a great coil from the top of the man's head, around his neck, and down the front of his finely tailored solid black dress leathers.

He did not drift toward any one person, he did not sit, nor did he dance, instead he simply moved from area to area--listening, and watching. He did not drink, or eat, and he did not seem to make idle chatter readily with any curious onlookers who may have wandered his way. He was the curious onlooker in this scenario. A recent arrival to Crescent that had heard of this Moon Masque and come to take in the sights of the infamous Dalibor Weyr. He held no prejudice nor notions about her or her people, and now that he would call this place home--the West that is--he knew his opinion did not matter.

He was here to work, and work alone. Friends? If there was time. Acquaintances and business partners? Surely as there were two moons in the night sky. This, however, was not the time for making friends unless there was a mutual agreement to unmask. He had come here with no notion of seeking out or finding important parties. This was all about the atmosphere. The general...feeling of a place. Something you couldn't quite put a finger on without sinking knee deep into the muck and seeing how it smelled when you crawled out. Dalibor might be hiding tonight, but in many ways she was more exposed than ever.

It was easy to feel safe behind a mask.

-Open-


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Harbinger
 Posted: Feb 19 2018, 04:38 PM
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Priderunner





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Caelen
@Ruriko

Caelen was taken aback when Caden's immediate reaction was to answer by turning the question back at him. A blink of his eyes followed, though the candidate gathered his own wits quickly. It wasn't like Caden had replied with a difficult question.

"Yes," he stated simply in response to her question, offering her a small smile with his response. "I'm looking forward to see what else they start up this evening," he continued hoping that it would help continue the conversation. It seemed silly otherwise; he started this interaction and would see it through. As long as Caden was interested at least. She seemed... less than interested. At least at first.

"Yes, I am," Caelen replied to her next statement, tilting his head slightly as he looked her over with curiosity. The way she spoke seemed... off. It didn't seem like Caden was curious about the fact or disappointed. Frankly, Caelen couldn't put his finger on it. "I hope that's okay with you." Maybe she was seeking more than company this evening?


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Tobes
 Posted: Feb 20 2018, 10:36 PM
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Wingrider





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W’ryn leaned into the embrace, letting Ulian support their weight rather than hold back, unwilling to cede to the complaints of their body. Maybe Ulian could feel it even, the dragging stiffness in their left side, the greater hesitancy in the fingers of their right hand versus their left, but it wasn’t going to stop W’ryn from closing the distance between them to nothing. They might spend a lifetime healing from the nasty work of a few minutes and a determined monster. There would be only this once that they would touch Ulian in earnest for the first time. Their aches could wait. They were too enthralled to notice anyway. Ulian’s finger tracing a line along their jaw was met with a full-body shudder. It would take far longer than a few minutes for the intensity of touch to become anything less than overwhelming. But it was a delicious kind of overwhelming, and they had been so hungry for that touch for so long. They turned their head to press another kiss against the delicate wrist.

“Not even if they knew what I meant to do with you?” Green eyes were searching, their brows drawing together in surprise and a little disbelief. They tried to imagine one of their old harpers caught like this, entwined in a single--admirably built, clearly--chair, masks stripped away, sharing kisses and touch in the open. And what then to imagine both of them as people like the two of them, something in between masculine and feminine, both the same but so different. They almost blushed for the imagined past, and moreso for the imagined version of their younger self trying to make sense of it all. Was it to be blamed on the conservative leanings of Holds, or was the lay of things different now with the passage of time and the realities of Thread and plagues, or was it only that W’ryn had changed so much? They wondered, very briefly, if their father were here, masked and anonymous and seething, but they would not let the thought of it trouble them beyond a brief wondering, not if it meant separating any part of themselves from Ulian. They leaned their forehead into the crook of the others’ shoulder.

“D’you know, I hadn’t even thought that far ahead? I didn’t think to plan for after this. I didn’t know for sure…” They trailed off, lost in processing that this part of their not-actually-a-plan was real and true and actually happening. “I didn’t know to ask for this, which is about how it always is for me maybe, but it’s so much better than I knew to hope for. Better than I thought I ever deserved. And I know that en’t how it works, y’don’t need to tell me, but that’s how it feels sometimes, right?” The thought of whisking them away somewhere more private was a momentary temptation, even as close as the two of them were pressed together there were still an awful lot of things in the way, like the barest shred of common decency and so many clothes. But there was time for all of it, wasn’t there? They didn’t have to choose any one thing, no one was stopping them from having all of it, so long as it pleased them both. And W’ryn suspected the revelries in the Dining Cavern would come to a close long before their night did, which was worth blushing about all over again. They pulled away just enough to flash an uninhibited smile at Ulian, one hand settling at the nape of their neck, the other brushing a thin braid away from their face.

“And I wonder how well I’ll have to dance t’live that day down. It’d be too selfish by half to ask t’go now, you must’ve spent an age on dressin’ so…” Again they trailed off, taking a moment not only to appreciate Ulian’s person but also the sheer extravagance of their fashion, which must have seemed doubly impressive against W’ryn’s understated browns and dusky greens. They had a brief thought of wherries, with one sex all colors and flash and the other being nearly indistinguishable from the trees, and the thought made them smile all the more. Hopefully Ulian preferred garnering the attention for both of them. With only the smallest of winces W’ryn pulled away and stood, extending a hand in as elegant a pose as they could think of to help Ulian to their feet. They found their discarded mask and pulled the leather Icehowler’s face back over their own, their disguise well and truly an afterthought at this point, but it would be a shame not to take advantage of what costume they had managed.

“Let’s see if I can’t earn at least a second reputation, or third maybe, on top of yellin’ and bein’ wrangled by snakes. And Faranth knows we ought to eat before… whatever comes next.” They leaned in close agains, one of their hands rising up clasped to Ulian's, though the other wavered. It had been a long time since harper lessons, and the matter of who was follow and who was lead presented a unique challenge. But it felt right to lean up into them and whisper, “And after all that, and after however many candlemarks it takes t’take off feathers and fabric, we’ll still have all the time in the world for questions, and answers, I hope.” Who needed sleep? Especially when Dalibor Weyr had such a habit of shortening that time unexpectedly.

@Ruin
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Ivy
 Posted: Yesterday at 11:50 pm
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Alphahandler





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Smiling all the while she watched as his hand roamed over her swollen belly and the life within. Then his lips were at her ear and with a gentle nature she knew better than most he urged her closer. Hand in his she lifted her other to rest against his shoulder, ”It’s been turns, I fear. If I step on your feet you’ll have to forgive me, I haven’t even seen my own in seasons.” The smile she offered was for him and him alone. Others over the turns had attempted, albeit not wholeheartedly, to garner her favor and draw her away from her work. While he’d yet to succeed in the later he had come closer than all others - something that struck her as curious and yet she’d stopped questioning how he made her feel. It simply was, for all it left her confused, and she accepted it. Would it fade after their child was born? She could not say but she hoped it did not - spending her days and nights in his weyr was comforting.

Swaying slowly along with him she shuffled her feet rather than picking them up, her large belly making it somewhat awkward and forcing some amount of distance between them. Snuggling her large center against him she didn’t have to fear stepping on his feet unless he kicked one into her space. The real threat was stumbling over her own feet, which she could already tell would be swollen by the end of the night. ”So did they break out real Benden for this sauree or something else?”

Between her mask and the fact she was smiling fondly up at him it was truly doubtful he had any idea of what was going on elsewhere in the weyr. Not only had she left a Goldentine for him in his weyr - the one she’d all but taken over as of late - but something else was to be delivered. Sixwith was doing her part in distracting Jaireth, or trying to at least. If you fly far enough over the water it becomes impossible to tell the air from the sea. Would you like to see?

@Catsitta
[We can branch off after they dance to a seperate thread if you’d like or stay here - up to you!]




A case of mistaken identity was bound to occur with so many people in one space, most if not all of them hidden behind masks. So when the Weyrlingmaster made his way towards where a particular bluehandler was milling about it had all the hallmarks of such an incident. So intent on keeping an eye on the younger attendees she didn’t realize that he was speaking to her and not to the woman standing directly to her left. Dabyrie did not take notice in time to speak up and accept the wine, she assumed instead that his sights were on the fiery red haired temptress, surely she was more deserving of his attention. It was not that Dabyrie lacked in self confidence but she had fair eyesight and could plainly see Ivy was far more attention grabbing in such a tight ensemble than she in her modest dress.

In fact it was not only the handler who mistook who S’vor was speaking too, as Ivy quickly turned and offered a bright smile to the man. ”Well I-”, before she could politely decline and explain she was meeting someone tonight a grand poppo was upon her. Squinting as the elegantly dressed man drew closer her smile split to show teeth when his hand found hers. There was no mistaking those hands, she knew them well for as much time as they’d spent on her form. Nodding politely to the greenrider she allowed C’lainn to sweep her away, in parting motioning to Dabyrie, ”You look like you could use a dance partner and the Weyrlingmaster is looking for one as well!”

Leaving the handler looking perplexed but now with her attention on the greenrider Ivy slid her arm into that of her weyrmate’s. ”Well my my, don’t you look festive?” With a gentle teasing note she reached out with her good hand to touch his mask softly, appreciating the craftsmanship. ”You know I have dresses, you didn’t have to get me one. Especially not one like this it must have cost a pretty mark!” Lips pursed and blue eyes narrowed briefly, it was hard to hold a scowl when one was in a good mood though and eventually her face fell back into a bright smile, ”I do love it, so thank you. It’s tight… not that you can’t see so yourself, but not too tight. I think I’ll be able to dance just fine, in fact I had to dance some to get it on.” Getting it on was no doubt a harder task than taking it off, which would come later - and she’d have an extra pair of hands to help with that endeavor.

Blinking a few times Dabyrie’s eyes followed behind the pair of riders for a moment before she turned her attention to S’vor. ”My dance card is empty for the entire evening, just have to keep at least one eye on my daughter and the other littles. Never know what trouble they’ll get into. Though surely you know all about that being a Weyrlingmaster and all.” Offering a playful curtsey to the man she took the wine she presumed he’d been offering to the now long gone cyanrider. Sipping from the glass her full lips gave a friendly smile, ”To the Masque!” Another sip followed before she realized she’d not introduced herself, ”Shall we introduce ourselves or keep the air of mystery?” After all there was more than one male Weyrlingmaster and she knew neither of them - it could either be S’vor or R’ah, she had no guesses of which.

@Ruriko - S’vor/Dabyrie
@RhiaBlack - C’lainn/Ivy




Though hardly improper the greeting caught her off guard, feeling his soft lips upon the back of her hand… he was only the second man to greet her in such a manner. Ladies of the Holds may be used to it but Norla of the isles, of the wherholes, well she was far from accustomed to it. If it drew color to her cheeks she was covered well enough by her mask for it to be evident. A soft smile, nothing to encourage yet also nothing to dissuade, was all her face gave away. The mask covering half of her face was not the only mask she wore.

”Norsk is doing well, he is keeping an eye on things. That’s what he does. He insisted I come and enjoy myself but he rarely heeds his own advice.” This was a pointed jab at the bronze - perhaps it would be enough to get him to partake in the face painting. Even if it didn’t he was still out there, roaming around watching dragons and whers alike as they enjoyed themselves as he felt it was his duty to do. Looking the man over she nodded, ”You look well, your mask is nice.” He was offering to get her something now and she bit her inner lip briefly. What could one glass of wine hurt? Klah was so often her go to she rarely drank anything stronger - tonight seemed like a good night to imbibe some liquid courage. Courage for what she wasn’t sure. ”I’ll take a drink, but I fear I will have to fetch it myself.”

Tapping his knots she gave a rare smirk, ”If those working the tables are worth their salt they wouldn’t give you a glass even if you told them it was for the Weyrleader himself.” Taking a step she began the walk to the table where wine was being served, slow enough so he could follow and get himself some juice, klah, or water from one of the other tables if he’d like. ”I do not envy those who have to clean up after tonight. I wonder if they’ll have one of the classes clean? Or maybe they’ll drag the candidates from their beds to clean early in the morning?” All was said in a tone that was neither serious nor fully teasing, somewhere in between. Reaching her destination she took up a glass after nodding politely the the three workers keeping an eye on the alcohol and the shoulders of those fetching drinks. Taking a sip she hid a smile behind her glass as she glanced over him once more.

@Ruriko - Dhiren/Norla




”A graduation gift when the Marvelmakers finally got their rider’s knots. I haven’t seen any of the others, must mean I’m the only sentimental one.” Smirking as he said this he was being a tad sarcastic. T’vis hardly saw himself as the sentimental type - though he’d considered wearing V’es’ mask; ultimately he had burned it. The night he took in Kaiser and spoke with Norla was the night he decided to move on… couldn’t move on while still holding mementos of a lost loved one. Not that he’d ever actually admitted to loving the blackrider. Letting Lu’ka take the lead he followed behind, watching with some amusement as food was practically piled onto his plate. He wasn’t gluttonous but indeed he must be starving with how he took a little of everything. Taking a little of this and that, things he knew he liked while avoiding things he didn’t, T’vis soon had a mostly full plate and procured himself some wine. No sense in avoiding the drink - he wasn’t the one who was being watched like a hawk tonight.

Nodding towards the nooks and crannies that were filled with firelizards he shook his head, ”Don’t miss that at all.” Some were merely pets and there because Theirs were. Others were there searching for unattended morsels. Many, however, he knew belonged to the various ‘masters and their assistance - they were in place to make sure those wearing their knots behaved themselves. ”At least it won’t be long til you’re free to do what you want. Lookin’ forward to anything when you graduate?”

Rather than answering about the ‘quieter’ place, as if such a place really existed, he took the lead and made his way past a handful of well dressed men and women to the far side. Scooting past a few people already seated and eating he went all the way to the furthest table where the music was still present but at least some of the voices had died down. A soft background murmur that picked up every so often but all in all was easy to tune out. Setting his plate and drink down he slid into the seat and plucked up his glass. ”To the Masque and whatever it is we’re supposed to be celebrating. The moons I think? Sounds right.” Taking a hearty drink he looked back at where there were a number of women - and men - milling about. ”Planning on dancing? Probably have good luck asking one of them, they look like they’re all here alone.”

@Ruriko - Lu’ka/T’vis


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Captain
 Posted: Today at 12:36 am
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Wherlingmaster





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@Catsitta
Zaela bristled, looking strangely offended. She looked Zen over suspiciously, as though trying to find something he was hiding. Seemingly unable to do so, she pushed Thief onto her shoulder and took a deep breath. "Fine." She stood stiffly, then crossed the distance to take his arm.

Everything about her was uncomfortable. She was stiff, though she moved gracefully. "I won't say anything if you decide to stop. I warned you that I can't dance." That wouldn't stop her from trying, though. Now that she'd been wrangled into this, she was determined to be as good at is as she could.

She settled her hand on his hip, placing her forearm on the opposite, then looked up at him, frowning severely in concentration. She wouldn't enjoy this, but she wouldn't be bad at it. That was all she could try to do. "Go slow," she insisted with a frown, looking down to his feet. "I'll follow." She had to hope he agreed... Or she'd look the fool.

@RhiaBlack
Baria gave Basasius a wide smile, happily wrapping her arm around him and nursing her wine. "Weyrs certainly don't skimp on the party," she murmured to her husband, resting her cheek on his arm. "Do you think the Hold will survive without us?" She knew it would, but she had already asked three times and figured once more wouldn't hurt.

"I wonder if we'd have any luck getting a firelizard here... Everyone seems to have so many, I don't see how it wouldn't be easier here than at the Hold." Baria was, maybe, a little bit into her cups. But still thinking so very practically. "They could be terribly useful, even the small ones. Delivering messages and the like. I wonder if there are any eggs about, Bas." The nickname indicated that she was getting fond of him. "You could use a little pink." She stuck her tongue out at him with a giggle.

@Harbinger
Navenax grinned. "No need to 'sir' me, dear! I'm enjoying myself a great deal. Why would you just want to watch? Dancing is half the fun! If you change your mind, I'm more than willing." He gave her a quick wink and scratched Dye's chin.

"The food is to die for, isn't it?" He swiped a pair of meatrolls from a passing tray and offered one to her, biting into his own. "Never disappointing. Now, since you're just watching... Who's mask is your favorite? I'm quite fond of the Weyrleader's, myself. Though, he didn't stick around long." Amusement danced in his eyes, the potential for gossip nearly overwhelming him. He'd gossip later, with more appropriate company.




Captain's Crew
Pressganged - Captain's Wanteds
Lady Holder Baria of Western
X'vir of Brown Oth | Ems of Blue Kapth | Wa'ut of Blue Qith
L'ru of Green Syrath | Z'ant of Green Lyraleth
Zaela of Pink Nektisuth | Qivi of Black Dekandaeth | V'ax of Cyan Purlalith
Vatalian of Orange Vatask | Pavir of Blue Pavisk | Setarii of Black Setask
Inali, Havenrute, Navenax, Felrin, Uonai
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3. Please refrain from explicit description of illegal, violent or gross subjects. Be mindful of your fellow members and guests to the site.

4. Important communications for staff should be sent via PM - just because someone is on the site does not mean they are looking at the cbox! :)


Cbox Mods: Ruin, Rii, Ivy
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