Beach

we can cut what we're spending on t.v nearly in half.
An eerie mirror, the glass-quiet Sea of Azov: the clear waters stretch along the dark-pebbled shores, and along this narrow beach. Here the faintest lap of waves belies the calm beyond; here the rocks have been ground down into finest, softest sand - those observant would mark upon the similarity between it and the sands of the hatching grounds. The soft sand soaks up summer sunlight as a sponge; painfully hot during the warmer months, it is only truly pleasant at wintertime. Rocks rise to east and west, lichen-limned and green against the abyssal darkness of stone.

It is the seventy-sixth day of Winter and 42 degrees. Partly cloudy, the storm seems to be mostly gone with only the occasional short falls of rain painting the ground.

It's afternoon and the rain has cleared up so what's a candidate to do when she doesn't have anything to do until later in that afternoon? Why go to the beach and light up one amazing bonfire, that's what and that is precisely what Novi is working on doing. She's busy gathering up driftwood that's not soaked through to pile by a pit she's dug. If you light it, they will come.

It's been a pretty good day - for Ulrika, anyway. Between the regular PT sessions for Candidates, the bonus sessions with Ocelot, and working in the kitchen, she's been on her feet and on the move all day. That kind of thing usually puts the guard-Candidate in a good mood and today is no exception. Chores finished, she's been jogging down the shoreline, just to cool down in the chill air while there is no rain for once. She slows a bit when she spots Novi, though, and she calls, "Oy, there. What are you doing?"

And they do come, in trickles at first and then in steadier streams, white knotted individuals of all shapes and sizes have heard that something is happening on the beach. It's like on old Earth long forgotten, when everyone knows that a certain kid's parents are gone for the weekend. No one really knows how they know, but the promise is there, just waiting for people to bring it to life. Party! Among them, a certain Igenite has decided to go with the crowd for once and Ryott ambles lazily in, a pack of dragon poker cards in her hands, fingers idly working away at shuffling them, just something to keep them busy perhaps. Wandering up to the girl and the pile of driftwood, she passively looks over the girl's work and nods once to Novi, then to the approaching Ulrika. "That's a lot of wood. So how you thinking of lighting it then?" Her deadpan tone is neither interested or not, but she figures it could at least be entaining. Around them some harpers turned Candidates of course have brought along instruments and they start to set up an impromptu band.

Like a moth to a flame they arrive - even those who likely wouldn't show up for such things under different circumstances. But it's been a good day and a particular someone may or may not have been over-productive in the kitchen (or very likely just made sad eyes at a particular ex-Baker) and brought along snacks. Yes, Roheis is the mom-friend today who brought snacks in her purse. Carrying along a basket stuffed to bursting with less-than-pretty-but-still-very-edible baked goods and a couple of serviceable blankets tossed over one shoulder she arrives among the trickling in crowd and finds a likely place to set the haul down so she can setup something resembling a snack table.

Still busy with the driftwood, Novi gives Ryott a light shrug, "I've got my ways," is the eventual answer. The rest of the candidates that have followed are largely ignored until one starts to mess with the careful arrangement of the wood, "Oi! Leave that alone! There's a precise order to these things," she'd swat the offender's hand away, but for the fact that she's busy getting the pit lined with kindling and other flamables. Roheis and Ulrika get knowing looks, and once Novi has her flint in hand a fire is soon produced. Rather the beginnings of a fire is produced, and carefully fed, "I said leave that alone," snapped at grabby hands one more time, "Okay, I got the fire going. Someone keep Grabby away from the woodpile?"

That's certainly something. Ulrika considers the situation, then half-turns, pointing to three familiar faces that pop into view. "Erskine, Ghunthr, Seirrush. Go hunt down some skins of water or juice or both - and see if the cooks have any more snacks to spare? Go on with you." The three lads, all former guards, jog off without question, not that she would expect them to fuss overly much; at their ages and given that they've been doing the same exercises she has, they're practically all stomachs on legs anyway. Roheis's contributions are worthy of a low whistle from her - as well as a welcoming wave - but there are plenty more Candidates destined to come rolling in to join. Ryott, too, is spotted and nodded to in recognition, though her attention shifts to Novi and Candidate Grabbyhands McGrabberton there. "Oy! Back off of the wood, now, like she asked." The 'or else' is unsaid, but her purposeful approach should say plenty.

"Oh…how mysterious," Ryott deadpans before she grows bored of Novi's fire building and turns back to the slowly coalescing party as more of the nearly two hundred candidates hears the siren call. The band is now almost twenty strong, and more like a small orchastra actually, guess the Harper Hall gave up a lot of their own for the good of the Weyr this time round. When they are done tuning their instruments, they split into small groups so they can rotate through the evening, forethough their former Masters would be proud of. The first group get up there and start off with a rousing favorite that is met with boisterous cheers. Ryott slinks away from the bonfire then, moving towards the harpers when she's cut off by a trio of candidates and with lowered voices, and bodies blocking most of the action, some sort of business if done.

Offering a return wave and smile to Ulrika's greeting Roheis sets out a blanket and it's not too long before she has some 'helpers' assisting her either. First chance at food is a nice bonus few are willing to pass up. The other blankets she's brought along are rolled tightly into fabric logs and set around the makeshift table, likely to keep too much sand from getting kicked into the food itself. Standing up and dusting off her hands she contemplates what she's got so far with a slight frown. "This won't do," she half-mutters. "Ulrika," she calls lightly, "do you think you could convince someone to find me a table or even just some boxes to get this up off the ground?" She's perfectly capable of finding people herself, but the taller guard-candidate seems to be faster about it than her own careful politeness allows.

A nod of thanks is given to Ulrika as Novi takes up the position of 'fire keeper', "I'd offer some of the driftwood, but none of it looks like it would do for the job," is said to Roheis. Ryott's doings are largely ignored. The candidate that had been grabbing for the wood sulks off to do whatever it is he's inclined towards, "What'd you manage, Roheis?"

Music is a siren call to another set of 'ears' about the Weyr and this little impromptu gathering is about to be gate crashed! Not dramatically, thank Faranth but it's not like Tsiroth can exactly hide himself from sight here! Not that the bronze doesn't try, either. He'll lumber up, all smooth and suave-stepped as though there's nothing wrong with a dragon just sidling up behind some musically inclined Candidates! And there he'll loom and settle, cocky arrogance written all over his posture as he peers down at them with feigned obliviousness, from the ones playing (or not by this point), to the fire-setters and those just milling about. Hey guys! This looks like a pretty sweet party, eh? He won't even blink an eye at the potential silence (or will it be panic? ooh, he likes that too) his arrival may cause, all too happy to bask in that awkward tableau moment, should one occur!

"Aye, can do," Ulrika replies with a firm nod to Roheis. She rolls up on the balls of her feet to put herself even higher than the bulk of the Candidates. "You! Aye, you, grab another pair of hands and see about getting a table or boxes to get this food on. You'll get first dibs on the drinks when they get here as thanks. Sound fair?" It sounds fair enough to the former runner her hair done up (predictably) in a runnertail. She grins a toothsome smile and sprints off, calling, "Race ya!" to anyone in earshot. Two others join her, having clearly missed the whole point of the situation, but that suits the runner lass just fine. They end up picking up a few stragglers to the party who are clearly interpreting the race as something important. The fools. They'll be back soon enough, along with the guard-Candidates on drinks duty. In the meantime, she keeps an eye on the grabbity Candidate, which means that - shock and horror - she misses the arrival of that smooth-moving bronze over there. If he's aiming for a stealth achievement, he's earned it against this former guard.

After she has finished whatever business she was doing, Ryott shoos the other candidates off with a sharp glare before she starts towards the musicians again. Perhaps it is their professionalism shining through, but the harpers are able to continue their playing with only a slight wobble as the looming bronze is noted. Ryott smirks a bit and heads over in the direction of the bronze, her hands slipping into her coat pocket and returning with a battered pack of Dragon Poker cards. Idly shuffling them, she spies a nearby candidate and whistles for her attention. "Hey you! Come pick a card…" she says as she flings a card into the air only to have it spin back towards her and she catches it with her other hand. A couple other candidates catch the move and step closer as Ryott fans the deck out for the girl to choose. Some things come naturally, and a Zingari, first and formost, provides entertainment.

"That's alright. I'd rather not take from your stash like /some/ people," Roheis replies to Novi with a pointed look at Grabby McGrabster. Seeing as Ulrika's got the feline-herding well in hand she flashes the guard-candidate a thankful smile with a reflexive half-curtsy of thanks. You can take the girl out of the Hold and all that nonsense. "Some meatrolls, few dozen jam tarts, couple loaves of bread, things like that. Nothing too fancy since they're mostly just leavings from lunch and what didn't pass muster from this afternoon's bake," she trails off suddenly whilst listing off what she brought along to Novi, openly staring over her shoulder at the rather sudden and unexpected arrival of a very large guest, eyes wide in shock at having even missed said arrival. "Um," is the smartest thing she can come up with on the spot.

Turning to look where Roheis' is looking, Novi's face takes on a look of busted in the most comically slow manner possible, "Uh," echoing the sentiment of her fellow candidate, "You don't suppose… Nah," she shrugs and turns back to tending the fire. Surely Va'os isn't goingg to jus show up, would he? Nah, "Sounds lovely," best to just pretend everything's normal. After all the fire is well under control, and the blue-green of the flames is why Novi was careful to select driftwood she knows has been well soaked in the salty waters.

In short order, there's a table, a few more assorted snacks - nothing exciting, though, just the Pernese equivalent of trail mix, jerky, dried fruits, and other such things to couple with the more substantial offerings Roheis brought. But, there are also drinks in the form of water and juice. Ulrika, for her part seems perfectly in her element in supervising - though, mostly, it's to keep an eye on any potential trouble, more than trying to herd her fellow felin- er, Candidates. Ryott's over there being Ryott, worthy of brief observation, but nothing more for the time being. She's entertaining the others and that has its own merits. And- wait. When did that dragon get there? Ulrika squints in Tsiroth's direction, lips pursed briefly as if that might help her resolve the mystery. Her attention is tugged to Roheis when she speaks - or, more specifically, to that 'um' that's about as articulate as she's feeling. Another look to the dragon. A sidelong look to Novi. Then a small measure of relief as, thank Faranth, she's not imagining it. But the fire? "Novi." Her tone drops and flattens a bit. "What did you do."

Don't mind Tsiroth, Candidates! He's a good guy and an ally, honest! He'll tilt his head for Ryott's card tricks, while offering the others a huffed breath; if dragons could scoff, he just did it! What? Why are they staring (Roheis and Ulrika, he's looking at YOU)!? He got some herdbeast left on him or something? No? He'll rumble next, loud enough to be heard over what music may still be playing. It's definitely an encore, even if he can't exactly say it. There are LINES FOLKS and Tsiroth doesn't cross the taboo one of bespeaking non-riders, even if he's itching to request a melody — actually, scratch that, maybe he'll be tempted to SIN. For now? With flare, he'll make a show of finding a nearby spot (sorry if there's Candidates in the way, y'might wanna move) to stretch and sprawl out. Ahhhhh. MUCH better!

There isn't a trace of the fire-branded Igen queen on Southern's beach so her rider saunters from the boardwalk to answer the ocean's call. With alpaca fur over her riding leathers, Nasrin sees there are more inhabiting the beach and on a whim, she disengages the knot from her shoulder and tucks it out of sight. A little anonymity never hurt anyone, right? She watches and sees Tsiroth, giving his spars and tail ample room. Boots are sinking easily into the damp sand at this point but sand she is at least used to if not the hiss of the waves.

One the girl has picked a card and showed the small crowd, Ryott has her place it back in the deck and then she hands the whole thing to someone else to shuffle it for her. The new volunteer takes to the task a little clumsily and Ryott has to keep from wincing every time the girl drops cards into the sand. When finally satisfied, Ryott takes back the cards and then with a smooth motion, she tosses the deck into the air. just as the cards start to scatter at their zenith, a gold firelizard pops out of between and snags one single card out of the lot. The rest all rain down around the girl, then the gold comes to land with a chitter on her humanpet's shoulder, holding the card in her talon out to the original picker. "Is that your card?" Ryott asks wryly. With wide eyes, the girl takes the card and with a squeal, shows the rest that it was indeed her card. There's a small round of gasps and exclamations of surprise, and Ryott bows her head before the audience erupts into calls for an encore.

"You live in a Weyr. There are dragons here. This shouldn't be surprising." Roheis mutters a quick little pep-talk to herself, frowning ever-so-slightly at her own lack of impropriety. It's really no different than having a random person show up…but you can't really offer a dragon light refreshments and hors d'oeuvres as is proper in this scenario. It takes a moment for the wheels to start turning again but at least there is a table setting to busy herself with until they kick back in. Yes, this is turning into a right proper shindig. Ulrika's question happens to snag her attention and she too looks at the fire with piqued interest and just a hint of mild alarm.

The fire, it's a mesmerising color to look at, "Me?" Novi asks of her friend, "Nothing. The salt water on the other hand, well it's a nice little side affect don't you think?" smug? No, just really pleased with that stunned tone from the guard-candidate. As yet, the Weyrwoman is un-noticed.

The Look (or maybe it's just a regular look; with dragons, it's hard to tell) from Tsiroth is enough to pull a sharper gaze from Ulrika. She salutes the bronze, of course, now that the Mystery of the Sea-Fire that Novi wrought is solved. There is definitely some side-eye for Novi, though, as if she doesn't quite trust that explanation. She's got her eye on you, Dolphineer. "You did a fine job with all of that, Roheis. How've you been doing?" The question is expanded to Novi, too, and those others in their conversational range; being busy has done much to both build the bonds of Candidates - and also keep them from having a lot of time to chat. More Candidates filter in to join the festivities, so even those without knots might be able to mingle unseen for a time. With so many packed into the barracks, it's a wonder if anyone can keep all of them straight.

Nasrin doesn't recognize the harper medley being played on the beach and it's rejuvenating, if a little heavy on the percussion. Not knowing the candidate bonfire for what it is, she assimilates by cruising by the snack table and- ooo nuts! She plucks one out of a bowl and crushes it unevenly on just one side of her mouth. They're good enough to take a handful, and look at her go. "Who's in charge of the fire?" She'll ask anyone, "looks a little weak." Her voice has similar veins to Ryott's, unless the young candidate has been disguising her accent.

Tsiroth looks as smug as smug can be, where he's sprawled out on the sands. Yes, that's it! Just keep the party going, folks! He's not gonna tattle on you. So long as the entertainment keeps going and the music — hey, why did they stop? There's a pointed snort given to the Candidates in charge of that and a gestured roll of one of his front feet (or is it a hand? it's kind of got a thumb… sort of… it's weird, okay?). Go on! He came here for the tunes! Since, y'know, it's not like he can enjoy the snacks. Nasrin is given a sharp look and a knowing rumble but he won't blow her cover (yet). He'll rumble to the other Candidates too, especially those by the fire. Just relax! Don't mind him. Just go about enjoying your party! When that music DOES start playing, Tsiroth's gonna be getting into that groove! Which means he shares. Which also means, a certain bronzerider and Weyrleader is likely sitting somewhere confused as to where this NEW TUNE is plaguing him (and lots of cursing for his bronze's insistence in sharing)!

Ryott takes little time in cleaning up her scattered cards, slipping the deck back into one of her interior pockets of her jacket before retrieving a mark piece from another equally hidden pocket. She holds it up for them to look at, even, trustignly, offers them to pass it around the small audience, which they do, and it returns to her, with the general consensus being that yes, that is a mark piece. Once she gets it again, Ryott closes one hand around it, and then looks at the closest person and asks, "So where is it now?" A little confused, the boy points at her hand, obviously. But when she turns it over and dramatically uncurls her fingers, it is not there. There's a murmur through the audience as Ryott holds her other hand up, equally empty and then she points at the lad who guessed, and reaches behind his ear to…pull out that mark. The boy gapes at her a bit and starts to feel around the back of his ear to see if there's more there.

Novi turns to in the direction of the person asking after the fire, even as she's chucking another log on it. Give her time. One does not simply throw all the wood on, that would burn through the wood far too quickly or smother it, "Give me a minute. Need to make sure the damper logs won't put it out," that means feeding it up slowly. She has her eye on one log that will burn spectacularly once it's placed, she'll need to watch it closely but Novi's doing that anyway.

Roheis nods along with Novi's explanation as if it makes absolutely perfect sense. It's not exploding and it's definitely adding a nice festive touch to the whole thing so she's not going to complain. "I can't complain overly much. It's too bad we haven't had overlapping duties in a while. I miss asking you silly questions." Is that…teasing!? Shock and awe! "How have those extra PT rounds been treating you?" She'll inquire of Ulrika, having not been involved in those in any way. Regular PT is quite enough for her right now, ah-thank-you. An idle eye is kept on Ryott and the crowd she's managed to attract for her slight-of-hand tricks.

"Aye, that'd be Novi," is directed to the unfamiliar and knotless young woman. The accent is worth a slight sharpening of Ulrika's regard. The Istan tilts her head toward the Dolphineer-Candidate in question, while she takes a more complete assessment of the latest arrival to the snacks table. "I'm Ulrika," is offered, since names are also on the menu. "I've not seen you around, though. Are you one of the newer ones or have you been a while and we've not crossed paths?" That's angled to Nasrin, but her attention is pulled back to Roheis shortly thereafter with a dry chuckle. "Aye, well, with any luck, they'll get us on the same rotation again. I miss your silly questions." Her grin manifests in lopsided form at that last, though. "Aye, much better. It's been a while since I've been properly sore. It feels good."

Nasrin weaves through the gathering with intermitent crunches of nuts she's slowly feeding herself, blue-gray eyes lockingly smartly on Tsiroth. Hello, bronze beast. "It sounds like you know what you're doing," she'll rejoin to Novi, watching the tenderly-fed flames for a moment or two, before Ulrika introduces both herself and the fire-feeder. "Euskal, new today, as a matter of fact." An alias is fed to Ulrika without a beat. "The knots- is everyone here a candidate?" So far all glances confirm it.

Once she's done with the last trick, Ryott does a bit more sleight of hand with the mark before she finally begs off anymore. Cause oh look! there's drinks now as well as snacks over there. Grabbing herself some juice and a couple of lopsided tarts. the Igenite wanders back by the gathering near the now coming along nicely fire, and nods to the familiar face until she gets to Nasrin, and her nod is slightly delayed, but nothing else betrays recognition. "I'm sorry, I missed that, what was your name?" she asks, offering an innocent look in the other Igenite's direction as she raises a curious brow in her direction.

Manners! Roheis also notes this new unfamiliar face among them once Ulrika is introducing herself. "I'm Roheis. Pleased to meet you," she'll offer with a soft smile. Gazing about the crowd she conducts a quick knot-count, affirming that the crowd is mostly candidates. "More or less. There's a few Weyrfolk mixed in it seems, and we're likely to get more down this way as the night goes on." Southerners can't resist a party. This is a fact, apparently.

More wood is fed into the fire, and finally Novi starts adding larger logs sending sparks flying into the air. With the laugh that erupts from Novi, one may wonder if the young woman's just a little bit of a pyro? She waves at one of the other Dolphineer-candidates, and together they lift one of the longer logs over the fire. It stretches from one side to the other of the pit, and there's more laughter as more sparks fly up into the air. These sparks are accompanied by a myriad of pops, and hisses.

"Well met, Euskal," Ulrika replies with a curt dip of her head. "Just when it seems there aren't any more bodies for the Searchriders to find- well." And then a wild Ryott approaches and Ulrika glances from one to the other before musing, "Euskal, she says." But something of the other Candidate's reaction might be tipping her off - or she's just naturally suspicious whenever the Igenite is involved. There's a slight hardening of her expression, though it passes quickly. All the same, she steps aside to allow that interrogation to occur, while her attention partially shifts to Roheis and Novi. Though, by now, it's mostly Novi, because that doesn't seem healthy. "Maybe you're not so ill-suited for dragons after all," she calls to her with a laugh. "It's looking good, now. A pity we don't have fish to roast on it."

"E-U-S-K-A-L." Nasrin easily repeats after Ulrika to Ryott with a lioness's languid grin. "Good spot you picked here," crunch. These are good nuts. As Novi begins to supplement the fire with larger logs and stir the sparks, Nasrin retreats back a few paces, watching one of the sparks glow in a old bootprint before dying out. "Who's the dragon?" She could suss that information out from Rajakhelath but that would spoil her role as candidate, scene I.

"Alas," Roheis agrees with Ulrika's assessment. Novi's apparent enthusiasm for fire is worrisome to her, but rather than wring her hands she'll go and grab herself a drink to keep them occupied and not making little flustered motions at the Dolphineer. "Perhaps we should have had some buckets of water at hand," she'll half-mutter to Ulrika, brow furrowing in thought but quickly wiped away. She can't plan for everything, after all. Noting the exchange between Ryott and 'Euskal' she'll politely extricate herself from that interaction, but not so far away that she can't keep an ear on it. While not overtly suspicious it's still a curious matter she's not just going to outright ignore.

The Igenite is used to suspicion, especially from the tall blonde candidate, and so it doesn't seem to bother Ryott. Indeed, she'll actually flash the ghost of a grin in Ulrika's direction with a look of…thanks? That can't be right.
"Euskal. Interesting name. I'm Ryott." She offers way more easily than usual, her dark eyes taking in the newcomer's appearance as the corners of her lips continue to curl into a smirk. "So where did they pick you up from Euskal?" The girl won't blow her cover, but she will still find some way to get some fun out of this interesting turn of events. When the dragon is mentioned, she turns her head in the bronze's direction and squints. "I dunno, a bronze I guess. They kinda all look the same after awhile." Sorry Tsiroth, nothing personal.

Novi grins at Ulrika, "I'm not alone at the moment," is said of her fellow Dolphineer-candidate, "so is that a challenge?" because Novi and her fellow dolphincrafter are certainly up for a fish hunt with the dolphins. Novi's default towards Ryott is to generally ignore the Igenite, it's been a good policy so far so why change it?

Bronze beast, huh? Tsiroth's ego just got BIGGER! Damn right he's a beast. He might've caught on to Nasrin's little trick there but who knows? That music has got him entranced and he's just going to dig it for the time being! Not to mention the party atmosphere! Yeah, now THIS is his idea of relaxing and kicking loose! All that fun and excitement is bleeding through his link, however, with his rider. Eventually, Va'os has had enough and is on the warpath to figure out WHAT has got the bronze flooding his head with his flavour of remix.

The grin from Ryott just makes it worse, somehow. Ulrika might shift most of her attention elsewhere but, like Roheis, there are tabs to be kept. To Roheis, there's a nod and a grunted, "Aye, perhaps," pitched low enough for the former Assistant Headwoman to hear. "But we're near enough the water and have enough hands that it shouldn't be too bad if she- it," the fire "gets out of hand." Novi's grinning, though, that calls to memory something else and she quirks a brow. "Well, if you figure the fire will keep burning without your uncanny touch, then, aye, I'll challenge you to see what you and yours can rustle up." she glances to Roheis and adds, "She and the dolphins pulled in a mighty fish some days ago. It's a sight."

Nasrin maneuvers herself to a side opposite the fire where she uses the sole of one boot to stabalize the long log of Novi's, kicking it another couple inches into the firepit's center. "There, that'll go up nicely." With a glow of appreciation on her face, unused to the damp sort of cold here. "Good to meet all of you," she's finished her ration of nuts and alas, won't indulge in more of Southern hospitality. Well, maybe a warm drink. And then THAT'S IT. Burying her chin in the off-white alpaca pelt, she gets closer to Ryott. "Ever heard of Smuggler's Notch cothold? In Keroon parts, the hillier country as opposed to the fields." She sips whatever's in her cup, a warm cider? "What're they doing?" Looking to Novi and Ulrika, dolphins as familiar to her as the ocean is. Not very!

A mad grin spreads from Novi to Dorlan, and without a word between them they head off in search of a net. This is going to be so much fun! Unless of course the bronze dragon steps in and puts a stop to it, or worse, his rider. If not, then a net is procured and the pair dash into the water after shucking down to their swimming attire. Let it not be said that the reputation of the Dolphincraft being full of not quite sane people has been sullied. From the water can be heard wild laughter, splashing, squees, and clicks. What indeed is going on? Were the lighting better the spectacle would be one to behold as a pair of dolphineer senior (former) apprentices are towed along the side of a dolphin each. There's more splashing, and laughter to be heard, and finally a whoop of success, "A little help?" is called, but from which madman? Dorlan or Novi?

"Nope, can't say I have," Ryott replies after the newcommer reveals where she is from, shaking her head slowly while scratching her head to make it look like she's really thinking there. Then her attention is turned to Novi and Ulrika as she catches wind of a challenge. To Nasrin, she shakes her head a bit, dark brows lowering over near ebon eyes as she watched them go towards…the near freezing water. Oh yeah. That's smart. "I'm not so sure…" but then Ulrika is explaining about the yellowtail and she just chuckles coldly. "Ok then. Well, good luck with that," she reamarks with no small dose of sarcasm. But Ryott's not going to ruin the 'fun' by actually trying to stop them.

"You have a point. Last thing we need is someone getting burned before weyrlinghood." Roheis agrees with Ulrika's assessment. She's about to inquire further about this fish but then off goes Novi into the water and she can't help but chuckle softly in amusement. "Well now you've done it," she flicks a grin upwards to Ulrika. Shifting her weight she cocks her head slightly to consider the gathering. "You know what? I think we're missing dancing." Yep. You heard her right. Finishing off her drink she parts ways with her current conversation partners and vanishes into the crowd of candidates to rustle up some dancers. Sure, it might be mostly her fellow Hold-bred folk to start with but eventually she's found some Weyrfolk to teach *proper* dancing to and a group of Harper-Candidates to play *proper* music, knowing full well it's likely going to be crashed at any moment. Live it up while she can.

"Dancing?" It's repeated with a slight quirk of Ulrika's eyebrow, but that mild surprise fades quickly; why should she be surprised that Roheis likes dancing? "Aye, good luck out there," she calls and while the other Candidate fades into the mix, her attention goes to the water. There's a quick, "Fishing," for 'Euskal', with Ryott's sarcastic commentary eliciting only a lopsided shrug from her and no further response. Partly because she has nothing to say - and mostly because there's a call for help from the water. She lopes out to the edge of the water and calls out, "Aye, what do you need?" They have a net - so, who knows what else is needed to get those fish to shore.

Nasrin was religiously neatening the wisps of hair around her face by tucking them behind her ears but the moisture in the air is wreaking its havoc. She gives up entirely and looks out into the ocean when Novi and Dorlan have waded in. "That is ill-advised," then realizing she hardly knows squat about dolphincrafters and their water abilities. Looking back to the other candidates, "right?" She isn't in charge here and that is a unnerving. As Ulrika asks what help's needed, Nasrin points her toes closer to the waves and comes up to the ex-guard's left side.

"Yeah, I'n not used to their ways out here just yet. I'm from up north as well," Ryott relays to Nasrin as if the woman didn't already know. The dolphineers are watched, but there is no way that Ryott is getting closer to that icy cold water than she has to. She'll just hang out by the fire for now, and munch on the tarts she's managed to grab from the makeshift snacks table. The Harper-candidates are still doing a good job churning out those dance numbers for Roheis and the others she manages to drag onto the designated 'dancefloor'. There are drinks as well, nothing alcoholic though, of course.

"You need to throw someone else in as bait," Osarlio chimes in helpfully, all smiles as he joins Nasrin and Ulrika at the shoreline. "Unless they're not man-eating fish. Do you have cheese? I hear fish really like cheese." He scratches the back of his head, squinting out into the water as he attempts to assess the situation at hand. Truthfully, he has zero idea what he has just walked into, but that never stops him from trying to be useful. "So what are we doing here, anyway? Should I cut some cheese? Maybe the smell alone will get them."

"We need a hand with the net," Novi, or was that Dorlan? Answers, as the pair wade out of the water dragging their net behind them, "We have two fish. Pretty sure they're not yellowtail, but they'll be tasty," because of course they wil be, "smaller too, so we can clean them once we have them some place where there's no sand," because sand is not a food group. Osarlio's words earn more laughter, "Just grab an edge, and pull will ye?" asked in unison from the dolphineer-candidates.

Throw someone else in as- wait. "What." Ulrika deadpans, sliding a look askance to Osarlio. "No, I don't think that'd help things much, unless you're volunteering. I can't promise I can throw you out that far, but…" Faranth knows she'd try. She tilts her head to 'Euskal', then, and gestures with her head to the water. "Feel like braving the cold and wet with us?" Because she's just going to casually assume Osarlio's going to help. And even if he doesn't, the Istan will. It's obnoxiously cold and wet, but she'll wade out there to help grab some part of the net and pull, with a called back, "You coming, Osarlio? Or still going to cut that cheese?"

"Perfect timing to grab that edge she's talking about." Nasrin frees up her exact spot on the beach to Osarlio, Igen intonation used to giving orders. With a split-second smile for the newcomer's presumed ingenuity, the 'candidate' is almost rallied to the makeshift dance floor. As Ulrika asks for her help, the pale woman bats a glance back out to the water, trying to judge its coolness from here. "Only if I take off my boots." She looks back to Ryott and shares a collaborator's peek.

Fortunately for those helping, Novi and Dorlan aren't that far out in the water. The net sags as it's lifted, and there's at least three fish in it. Each one a good sized, "Y'know Novi, we could just wrap them up in leaves and roast 'em that way," Dorlan says as he eyes the fish in the net, "Evenin', I'm Dorlan," is said to Nasrin, "Y'kin flirt later Dor," Novi says in a teasing tone, then adds, "I think we should at least gut these things. I mean, no one wants to eat fish guts except maybe firelizards."

"Is cutting the cheese going to help? I can cut the cheese if that'll help," Osarlio responds, seemingly oblivious to any secondary meaning behind his words. "But I can help with the net, no problem!" The promise of freezing waters seems not to bother him, as the candidate shucks his boots - good call, Nasrin - and pulls off his upper layers despite the chilly temperatures. How does this help at all? It's unclear, but he tosses his shirt and jacket aside and bounces up and down on his bare feet a few times. "Let's do this." So serious. He wades out into the water as well, grabbing the edge of the net to try and help. "Cold!" is his distressed cry, but he's not letting go. "Why is it so cold?"

Ryott see that peek Nasrin is giving her, but she just shakes her head a little bit. The woman can do whatever she wants, but Ryott is going to remain over here by the fire for the time being. Where it's warm, and the risk of hypothermia is relatively zero. Finishing her drink and then her snacks, the igenite girl realizes if all the Candidates are here, everywhere else is going to be relatively calm. Like the Baths. There's an idea. If Nasrin tries to catch her gaze again, the girl with shoot her a final covert wink before she disapears into the throng of white knotted individuals. There's she's filled her social quota for the rest of candidacy surely.

"Aye, fair enough," though Ulrika won't press the point too far with the new Candidate. The cold water is definitely an acquired taste and if 'Euskal' isn't keen on it, then so be it. Besides, with Osarlio helping, then they'll get that net and those fish to shore in a right hurry. Once she's out of it, though, and just straight soaked through, she blows out a breath and gives a full body shudder. "Aye, it's just cold because it is, but there's a fine fire over there to warm up at and plenty of blankets." And, soon, roasted fish! Excepting the cold, it's just like being at Ista. "Fair haul, Novi, Dorlan. And you did a right fine job, Osarlio." It's just a step shy of saying she's proud, but that's still implied in her tone.

"Because it's winter?" Oh so helpful there Novi. This answer sends Dorlan into a fit of laughter. They'll be alright after they've had a chance to warm up by the fire, which is now blazing half a dragonlength into the air, "Shards! Grabby's got into the wood!" Novi drops her corner of the net and pelts towards the fire in time to stop 'grabby' from throwing more wood on the fire. A completely miffed Novi parks herself next to the fire and glares at all how approach the woodpile. Her fire!

Nasrin subtracts her boots but stubbornly leaves her stockings on, and removes the pelt from her shoulders in case that should get wet as well. Those initial steps into the shallows, like Osarlio ordains, are cold. With the tide sucking at her lower limbs as it retracts, Nasrin makes sure she's got reasonable footing before snatching some length of the net. "Dorlan is it? Well met and good catch." She gets up on shore in no time, skin blanched even more from the effects of cold water. She gathers her shed items of clothing, boots too, and heads for the fire once confident the others are out of the water. On the way, her knot escapes whatever recess it was once concealed in and she notices, stooping down to pick it up. Nothing to see here!

Osarlio all out runs from the water as soon as they've hauled their catch to safety, still shirtless and bootless and dying of hypothermia. "I bet plenty of places aren't cold in the winter." He starts to stoop in the last few feet approaching the fire, finally collapsing with a flail of his limbs by the bonfire. Thankfully, he's not in danger of sticking any body parts into those flames accidentally. "What did we just do, anyway?" If he saw Nasrin's knot, there's apparently no acknowledgement coming from this quarter - at least not yet.

With Novi fleeing to tend to a fire that's gone positively monstrous under the ministrations of Candidate Grabbleston The Grabbilicious, Ulrika helps to extricate the fish at least before shouldering two of them and lugging them to the fire. Sorry, Dorlan; you're on your own for the last one. In the process, she doesn't spot the fallen knot and no suspicions are raised from the guard. "Brave soul, you are, Euskal," the Istan calls with a grin. "You'll settle in just fine. There should be a few beds yet in the weyrling barracks that haven't been taken, but you may have to scrap a bit for extra blankets. Do you know anything of how to clean a fish?" The last question is expanded a bit, with a glance to Osarlio as well. Second thoughts are immediately had, as this would involve putting a knife in the young man's hands and who knows how that will turn out. "Aye, we just helped the Dolphineers get the lot of us dinner, that's what."

Dorlan gets to work gutting the fish as he laughs at Novi's reaction to the fire, "We just caught something more than tarts, and bread that are left overs, or not good enough to serve," he answers Osarlio as he lugs the last fish up to the fire. Shucked clothes gathered as he walks along, and finally a spot is found to scale and gut the fish. A task he makes short work of, "Novi, stop glaring. You're going to start scaring people," is said in his blandest of tones.

Nasrin wonders where Ryott ran off to and she actively looks around for the other candidate but is focused most on warming up. "I think he means to warn ships of the shoals…" looking at the monstrous bonfire Grabby von Takewhatiwant has created. Watching so her eyebrows don't combust, Nasrin looks at Osarlio's prone form and then to Ulrika, Dorlan and Novi. "I've cut up a thing or two." For all the months her dragon once required it. As the skin of her legs and feet now burn once proper feeling returns, she lowers her pant legs. She borrows a knife and offers to field dress one of the fish. Coming to the fire for light, "you alive?" She's this close to kicking the ball of Osarlio's foot.

"I'm not sure, I think I might be dying," is Osarlio's reply, as he offeres up a half-hearted salute. Maybe he did see that knot, or maybe he's just dying of hypothermia and nothing he does can be trusted. The possibilities are endless. "Fish sounds good!" But Ulrika is absolutely right in not handing him a knife. He'll just stay here basking in the fire's glow until he starts to feel his limbs again. Hopefully he gets his shirt back at some point. The party goes on while fish roast over it carefully tended. The music plays, and the dancing lasts for a long time.

Eventually people settle by the fire to enjoy the roasted fish, and other snacks, or wander back towards the barracks. All in all, the fun lasts until the last of the harper-candidates can play no more forcing all to call it quits and head back to the Weyr. All grumbling, or talking in quietly excited tones. Wasn't that fire something to look at? Maybe Novi shouldn't be left alone with anything? Who is that mysterious candidate that didn't even have a knot? Did the AWLM staff actually run out of knots? and on and on the questions and speculative answers go.