Hatching Feast = Food

[stolenhart]

He hoped to never see another Hatching like that for as long as he lived. To have gained eight viable dragonets only to have one be forced South and a full-grown dragon die in battle was not a good omen. Still though, seven dragonets one of which was a the Gold needed to grow the Weyr, was better than he had hoped. It seemed he owed his Wingleaders an apology. Over his dead body. He still believed they couldn't have gotten the gold in more peaceful ways instead of forcing her to Impress here. But he'd keep his peace about it, no one had need to know his inner thoughts.

But it had been a Hatching and now it was time for the Feast. The kitchen had spent hours on the evening feast, setting tables up out on the beach so the newly Hatched dragonets could attend. That was rare but with only seven dragonets, it was easy to do. The weather was perfect, the food smelling delicious. The Over Holder would have something to say about the blue's death but R'lyn would deal with him when the time came. Dressed in his finest, his formal knots on his shoulder, R'lyn was cutting quite a figure.

He waved to a few riders as he entered the area that had been set up for the Feast. Harpers took up one half of the area, tuning their instruments and getting ready to sing. He hoped nothing would happen tonight to further mar today. With a sigh he saw the Over Holder raise his arm to signal him over. Straightening his shoulders he headed for the man.

[saidaltam]

Isiloth, after being fed, was quite thoroughly worn out, and all Siten had particularly cared to do was see her sleeping, but she had had the necessities of her role (though it had been merely potential at the time) explained to her, and she was hardly going to start off on the right foot by skipping the hatching feast. It was the least she could do to put on some sort of appearance.

After scrounging through her clothing, she had discovered that she had very little that could be considered suitable for an event such as this, and ultimately settled on simpler fare, in good condition and of brighter colors. She looked like a holdergirl dressed for a gather and knew it, but it would suit, and if someone didn't like it, they could ruddy well buy her new clothing.

Pausing, to check on Isiloth, who was still mostly asleep, she slipped out of the room and headed down to the feast.

The affair was rather larger than she'd anticipated, and Siten felt herself sigh, but she allowed herself only a moment of the indulgence before straightening and putting on a mask of quiet serenity. Hands hooked together in front of her, she walked over to the assembly, then paused, looking for familiar faces or some indication of just where she ought to be.

[accelerando]

♥ ildessmor ♥
Now if she touches like this
will you touch her right back
Now if she moves like this
will you move like that
shake, shake, shake
SHAKE, SHAKE IT

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I

[/b]ldessmor was sitting on the ledge of the window in her room, looking outside. She could feel the cold stones through the fabric of her dress, and her fingers traced the patterns in the stone absentmindedly. What had happened the other day? From what Ildessmor had seen, it was one of the most unfair things that could ever have happened. A female rider sent away, all because she was a girl! It wasn’t even her fault that the green dragon had impressed to her, but nobody else seemed to care about that. It wasn’t like she never knew that it would happen, it was just that from what she had always heard, the females who impressed blues and greens deserved to be sent into exile. But she had known this girl. Although not on a personal level, she knew her. And Ildessmor knew that she had done nothing to deserve the exile that had been brought down on her head.

F[/b]or the first time in her life, Ildessmor felt like something had to be done about this, and fast. Who knew how many more females would impress blue and green dragons in the future. From what Ildessmor had experienced, none of them deserved to be sent off into exile either, and she was going to do whatever she could to help. Looking out of the window, she saw tables being set up by the beach, and it suddenly occurred to her, there was still a hatching feast today, wasn’t there? Groaning, she considered staying in her own room and skipping dinner altogether, but just then, her stomach let out a huge rumble. Looking down in surprise, Ildessmor giggled before shaking her head. No, that wouldn’t be an option. She had already skipped lunch, having gone out for a ride with Eksscripitia instead, and there was no way she was going to last through the night without eating something now.

P[/b]ushing herself into a sitting position, she sighed before standing up. Stretching a bit, she made her way over to her wardrobe. Pulling the doors open, she glanced at the rack of dresses in front of her before shaking her head. No, today was an important occasion, and she had to wear something special. Shutting the doors, she turned towards the trunk at the foot of her bed, and pushing the lid open, she began flipping through the neatly folded clothes, looking for one of her nicer dresses. After a few moments, she finally found the dress that she was looking for. Pulling the pink and gold dress out of the trunk, she spread it out on her bed before returning to her trunk. After locating a pair of gold slippers, she shut the trunk and proceeded to change her clothes.

S[/b]lipping on her gold slippers, she stood in front of the mirror, looking at her own reflection. Picking up her brush from the dresser, she began pulling it through her long hair, wincing every so often as she hit a snag. Once her hair was knot free, she began styling her long hair into an intricate knot at the back of her head. With the hairpins in her mouth, she quickly twisted, braided, and knotted the hair until it was perfect. Slipping the last hairpin into place, she returned to her trunk. This time, she knew exactly where to look, and within seconds, she had pulled out a sturdy little box. Pulling a key out from her undergarment, she opened up the box to reveal a king’s ransom in jewellery.

A[/b]fter a few moments of consideration, she pulled out an intricate gold hair net and placed it on her dresser table. Selecting a gold necklace to go with it, she closed the lid once more and locked it before placing it back into her trunk. Returning to her dresser, she picked up the hair net and placed it over her hair. Quickly pining it into place, she checked it once before smiling. Turning her attention back to the necklace, she picked it up and fastened it around her neck, the turquoise stone sparkling. Checking herself once more in the mirror, she nodded in approval. She looked like the noble hold girl that she was, and that pleased her.

T[/b]urning once, she stepped out of her room, shutting and locking the door behind her. Once outside, she followed the path down to the beach, where the feast was being held. She wasn’t exactly sure where she should wait or should stand, so she hesitated for a few moments at the fringes of the crowd. As she was looking around herself, her eyes settled on the girl that had impressed the gold dragon. Hesitating for a moment, Ildessmor then moved toward the girl, before stopping beside her. I never got the chance to congratulate you with everything that was... going on. she said, giving the other girl a small smile.
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/font]

[saidaltam]

Siten jumped when Ildessmor spoke to her, startled. In those soft slippers and surrounded by the raucous of the feast, she hadn't even heard the girl approach. She pressed a hand to her chest to calm herself, then turned to face the impossibly elegant, younger girl in her brilliant pink gown. It took her a moment to remember, but where she had seen the girl first, and when, quickly came back to her. "Thank you," she replied, tipping her head down politely for a moment. "I think we all had... more important matters on our mind, however. Did you, by any chance, know the names of either rider--the man whose blue was lost or the girl who impressed the green? I feel almost like I've failed somehow for not knowing their names." This last, she said very soft, voice low and conspiratorial, as though this were some sort of illicit conversation.

In truth, though she did feel a bit guilty for not knowing Brogan's name, Siten had chosen to ask Ildessmor, whose name she also did not know, because the younger, more well-bred girl had seemed far more social than Siten had felt any inclination to be during candidacy. Indeed, openness and trust had never been Siten's strong suits, and she rather suspected that Isiloth's abrasive nature would do little to alter that, which meant that she would need people like what she had imagined Ildessmor to be -- and not knowing the girl at all, it was, indeed, a case of imagining -- to keep herself informed about the rumors around the Weyr. Rumors were critical, and if she was to do her new job, she would need them desperately.

[stolenhart]

S'fet was overjoyed, which for this gentle giant was saying alot. A dragon had finally Impressed him. It had taken forever, he'd been here at the Weyr since the last one, slowly working his way to his Journeyman status, but now he wouldn't have to be a Smith. Well perhaps after training he would go back to it but for now he was head over heels for his brown Evonath. The brown dragonet was currently sleeping on the beach underneath a nearby tree, oblivious to the noise of the growing crowd. He had wanted to come and watch and S'fet didn't have the heart to tell him no.

He had just finished eating when the music began. An impromptu dance floor had been erected on the beach and a few couples started moving that way. With no one he knew dancing he decided to take a chance and choose a person. Why not Siten? He headed in her direction, noticing a Holdbred girl in a pink dress. Pink? He pasted a smile on his face and bowed to them. "Weyrwoman", he smiled at Siten, "May I have the honor of this dance?", he held his hand out to her. Many people were often amazed that the lumbering smitth could be graceful but he was. Despite his stony exterior he had more skills than simply crafting buckles and wagon parts.

[saidaltam]

Siten took a moment to register that 'Weyrwoman' meant 'her', then coloured faintly, which, given her skin tone, should have been more spectacular than it was, and smiled brightly at S'fet, an expression that actually reached her eyes. "I'd be delighted," she replied. "Thank you!"

In truth, Siten was a moderate dancer, at best, being far more adept at those dances with pre-ordained steps than at any sort of improvisation, but as most dances favored that particular brand of dance, she wasn't overly concerned. She would manage. Besides, she was fairly certain she recognized the song.

Siten placed her hand in S'fet's and, smiling warmly at him, moved toward the dance floor. This was supposed to be a happy time, after all, and the episode on the sands had about burned all the anger out of her. Tomorrow, she would let herself seethe, again. Tonight, she intended to enjoy herself. It was a rare enough indulgence. Besides, for all he had a harsh overall appearance, her fellow Weyrling had the loveliest brown eyes she had ever seen, even if he was far too young, a standard which she was rapidly growing to understand as meaningless.

[stolenhart]

"It's not a problem", he replied deep voice grating out as he was lead to the dance floor. S'fet had a very deep voice but then he should have one. If a young man as large as he through the shoulders and barrel had a squeaky voice everyone would have laughed at him. As it was, he had the kind of voice that children and animals are drawn to. Deep and soothing with a twang on it that could put even the most cantankerous child to sleep.

He put his hand on her hip and took her other one as he positioned them for one of those dances that had pre-ordained steps. These were the more orderly dances the older inhabitants of the riders favored for formal events. Later, after everyone was buzzed and energized, the dances would get quicker and more demanding but for now they were slow and welcoming. "Congratulations on Isiloth by the way. She is a fine looking gold". Evonath he had discovered in the last few hours as prone to laziness, the brown could not be forced to go the barracks after his first meal and had settled out here on the beach. "And you will be a good Weyrwoman I think", then he blushed, "even though we did just meet".

[saidaltam]

Siten smiled brightly. "Thank you very much!" Speaking of the lady herself, she had woken momentarily and was poking at Siten quietly. Siten reassured the dragon of her well-being and location, and the sleepy dragon rolled over and drifted directly off. She had had a busy day, and she was tired, thank you very much. There was no reason whatsoever for her to be awake. For a moment, Siten almost envied her, but just then, she was rather enjoying herself. She had always liked dances.

It took Siten a moment of thought to run down the events of the hatching, looking for the large young man's Impression, but the dance gave her plenty of opportunity, and after a few steps, she thought she had it. S'fet was rather memorable, after all. "Evonath, right?" She thought she remembered the confident little brown from earlier, and was fairly certain that had been his name.

[stolenhart]

He glanced down at her, "Yes Evonath or rather the 'Great Lump'", he tilted his head towards the brown dragonet who was spread, full eagle, under a tree just on the other side of the tables. "He decided the barracks was too far away to walk after that first meal so he just crashed right there", he told her, a look of absolute disbelief on his face. "He hasn't moved though, except to roll over since he fell asleep there. He's barely said more than five words to me as well. I'm Evonath, feed me", he rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Have you heard anything about our Weyrlingmaster?".

[saidaltam]

Siten laughed brightly at the younger rider's stories about the dragon. "He sounds charming," she replied, eyes positively glittering with humor. He did, too--or at least, he sounded sweet, which was rather more than she could say for her beloved Isiloth. Then again, Isiloth would not be Isiloth if she were sweet, and then she would likely have never impressed Siten, and Siten was finding it rapidly difficult to remember life without the cool, comfortable presence constantly lingering in the back of her mind that was Isiloth. She loved having Isiloth there. She felt much more focused with her lurking in the back of her mind.

As she considered, he spoke again, and Siten blinked, looked up, and then shook her head. "Not a word," she replied. "I haven't yet made a point of socializing with the other Weyrlings or candidates, so I don't really hear anything from anyone," she explained with a rueful smile. Her self-imposed solitude was not out of shyness, but out of pure, unadulterated selfishness that she was regretting, now. She hadn't wanted to know any of the others, in case she had been sent away after the hatching. She hadn't wanted to risk making and losing a friend. She had so few. And, atop that, she hadn't wanted to risk knowing them and being disgusted by her own inability to impress if she had disliked the candidates who had. It would have felt too much like a failure.

[stolenhart]

The Harpers were in fine form tonight. R'lyn must have sent riders off to Taskin to get the finest Masters they had. He'd never heard the tall willowy soprano before and the deep bass was an indemand favorite not only in the South but also in the North. A true deep bass who could sing and play was a rare commodity. He also had a voice that was untainted by an accent of any type, which made him very special. S'fet rather liked him, mostly because they shared the same type of deep voice. Except S'fet's voice came from muscle whereas the Harpers was from fat.

"I think they appointed a new Weyrlingmaster for our Hatching", he explained, "The last one was getting to old to teach I believe", he replied then frowned. "Make a point of socializing? We all know who you are Siten, and soon you won't have to make a point. Most of them will be following you around trying to get your attention", he nodded towards Isiloth. "Hire me to be your bodyguard, I won't actually hit anyone but I can scare them off", he winked at her.

[saidaltam]

Siten nodded slowly, growing somber. She hadn't thought of that, but he was right. Siten sighed. "I hadn't really considered that. Well, shards." She did not want a string of hangers-on, but he was absolutely right about that. Anyone who already rode bronze or brown, anyone who'd impressed bronze or brown, anyone who wanted an assured place in the Weyr, anyone who wanted any sort of patronage of any kind within the circle of dragon riders, and, of course, any silly fool who supposed she could affect how Isiloth's inevitable children would impress were going to be chasing her halfway around the Weyr and back. "It's a good thing that I've got some practice being sharper than I ought to," she muttered, feeling a surge of annoyance. She had never had any desire for an entourage, especially not while she was supposed to be training and learning to care for Isiloth. The little gold was much more important than clingy, needy, annoying, useless ninnies who served less purpose than firelizards, looked less pleasant, and made more noise.

And she had never particularly wanted a firelizard, either.

[stolenhart]

He smiled at her swearing, he'd heard worse from his Master but it had been a long time since he'd heard a woman swear. Most women of his acquaintce were quiet little creatures without any fire. He rather liked fiery women, he didn't like the war so he focused all his efforts on women? Now there was a thought. "You had better consider it", then he frowned, realizing he could be lumped into one of those group. Even though Evonath was a brown it was entirely possible he could steal a march on the bronzes and catch Isiloth. The only thing he could see that might be a problem was the brown's stamina.

"Good. What is it you did? I only ask because you don't seem like the type to get married and have babies so you must have done something", he asked her, turning her in a loop as the dance required. "I was an Apprentice Smith both here and at Garon, though I suspect I will try for my Journeyman knots once weyrling training is over".

[saidaltam]

"Hmm? Oh. Oh, just... this and that. Whatever needed doing that I could manage." Siten was very pleased when she managed to come off the loop without even stumbling a little, and it brought a tiny smile to her face. "Mostly, I told stories. When the Harpers take the time to entertain, everyone wants a song, and storytelling gets neglected. I'm not Harper trained, though, and I've never been able to sing, anyhow, so it was never an issue with me." For a few moments, after that, she danced quietly, thinking, then added, "There's not a lot of money in storytelling."

It was certainly true enough, too, now she thought about it. She had lived very sparingly since leaving home, and her insistence on being a teller of tales had had no small part in that. Perhaps that was part of why she seemed so much more plain and common beside, say, Ildessmor, for instance. 'Well, I never did like pink, anyhow,' she observed dryly to herself, and a bit of sarcastic humor traced its way through her, though nobody else had been exposed to her less-than-entirely-sharp wit.

"There's not a lot of call for storytelling, either, and by now, I should have been married, the mother of three, and cheerfully wasting my life away on the inside of a kitchen. Just between you and me, though... I can't cook, either." Siten smiled with wry amusement at that one. "Not for lack of trying, mind you. Everything catches fire, though. It's terrible. I eat more plainly than the most poverty stricken, because I burn everything else."

[stolenhart]

Story-telling. Lots of women did that, though they wouldn't call it that exactly. He'd never seen a story-teller in the markets though or on the street, Harpers set themselves up in the halls or holds to do their work making the masses come to them. Rarely did they go to the masses unless it was something like today that is. "I would suspect, given the general air of Harpers, you are not very popular being a female", he said, glancing at her for moment, "Which is why you don't get many marks. You'd probably have more luck in the North though I wouldn't know. I've never been farther North than this beach right here", he shrugged. Though S'fet didn't know it he was right, she probably would have had more luck in the North with her story-telling, if she could have found a way to get there.

He laughed at her can't cook comment, "Don't worry I can't cook either. The only time I get around an oven is to cook wagon parts, shoe or belt buckles and various other metal bits. And no one wants to eat that kind of thing. I've been spoiled in that regard all my masters were married to women who could cook", then he added, "If they couldn't their husbands would have starved a long time ago. No one has ever seen a skinny Smith", he twirled her one last time as the music ended.

[saidaltam]

Siten nodded. "Probably," she conceded. "There are lot of problems with the way that things work around here, unfortunately." She was, however, prudent enough to stop at that. Now was not the time to stir up a bed of tunnel snakes, after all. She had a bit of learning to do before she was ready to tackle that one.

As the dance came to a close, Siten smiled brightly at S'fet, making a point of changing the subject. "Tell me about your masters, then. I never did 'prentice out--most girls don't, after all--so I've no idea what sort of life you must have had as an apprentice. What was it like?" Though her choice of question was largely to divert the subject to a safer one, she really did want to know. After all, she had an audience, now, and she didn't know the first thing about any of them. How many of them must be from apprenticeships, before becoming dragonriders?

[stolenhart]

He lead her off the dance floor and to a table where he pulled the chair out of her. Women might be inferior but they should still be treated with respect and dignity, even the Code said so. "My first Master back at Garon, was very good with make tiny little things. Everything he did, he would make it his best. He always said, "No one may ever see the part but I'll know it's there and if it's not my best I'd just be embarassed", he remembered the old man quite fondly. He sat beside her and continued on, "He only let me work the bellows and fiddle with runner shoes. Then my Master here at Lidal Hold, he was a WeaponsSmith, I was learning to work a large bar of metal until yesterday", he smiled casting a glance over at Evonath. "I can always go back to Smithing in a turn or so. Dragonriders need bits and pieces of metal as well", especially buckles for riding straps and other such things.

"What kind of stories do you tell? Love stories? Tales for children?".

[saidaltam]

Siten tilted her head to the side curiously as he spoke, flashing him a grateful smile and folding herself into the proffered chair. She folded her hand in her lap and canted her head, noting his explanation of his masters, and the tone of fondness he used for the former master, as well as the man's words. For a moment, she wondered if that wasn't how every artisan, no matter the product, viewed things, for it was often how she approached her stories, as well.

Speaking of her stories, she furrowed her brow contemplatively before answering him. "Nothing quite like that, exactly. I've told one or two love stories, and I would never tell a child they couldn't have a tale, if they asked for one, but most of my stories are a little more... purposeful. I believe that a story should have a purpose, or there's no point in telling it. It's why I'm rarely fond of love stories. Most of those are just to make people feel fluttery. I'd rather tell a tale that means something. I'd rather that my audience walk away thinking about something I'd said than just leave feeling warm and fuzzy. We don't live in a warm, fuzzy world. Stories that just make you feel warm and fuzzy are nothing but a cheap veil, a low-quality mask that you can lay over the world so that you don't have to look too closely at it, or really consider just what it is you're looking at. The purpose of storytelling isn't to lie to people, though your stories aren't true. It's to use a fiction as a lens, so that you can magnify the truth and make it impossible to deny. I always hated it when people would ask me to paint them a falsely lovely world. There is very real beauty in this world, but that isn't what people ask for, and it's far from all that there is." It wasn't until she felt the vital spark that made her care so much about what she was doing flickering behind her eyes--a visible trait--that she realized just how much she'd said. Coughing softly and putting a hand over her mouth, Siten looked down, cursing herself mentally for her folly. She knew almost nothing of S'fet, and some of what she'd said could be very, very dangerous. Much less so today, thanks to Isiloth, she admitted, but still hardly prudent or safe.

[stolenhart]

He listened while she spoke, sensing a true fanatic to a cause. His old Maser had been like this, start him on a subject he cared about and he would talk your ear off. The only problem he could see with Siten was, she was a realist. No wonder she hadn't been popular, people didn't want to think, otherwise they'd think about this war and try to end it. Most people wanted to hear about Dragons and love and fierce battles, idiots. Oh Shards now who was the realist. They were a matched pair apparently.

"You should write your stories down then", he said softly, "There are not many ways to get things out but and you will hate this, if you sign yourself a man's name, the Harpers will take your writings and read them outloud", he shrugged. It was an idea. "You could even write them into songs and the Harpers could sing them".

[saidaltam]

Siten had not thought of that, and it was like the proverbial light flickering on behind her eyes. She sat up straight, sharply, and blinked. "You're right," she breathed softly. "Of course. Why didn't I think of that? But that's too perfect! There's no reason anyone need know differently!" She beamed broadly at him, then, eyes bright, and, had she been younger, she might have clapped. "Oh, you're brilliant!" she insisted, firmly but quietly. "Thank you! But this is wonderful."

In an instant, she was gone, mentally, though her flesh stayed right there. A million ideas were flittering through her mind, options and opportunities flooding her brain as though someone had burst a dam. If she could do this... if she could pull this off, it would be the opportunity of a life time. Between that and her newfound position, she could DO something. She could change the world with this. She'd have to start soon, though. Worlds were not changed over night.