==== December 4th, 2013
==== Br'er, E'don, Yules, Maosa, T'ral, tasna, Kyara, Q'fex, Kultir, G'deon, L'ri, Nora, Jesha, Prymelia
==== After the Weyrlings become Senior Weyrlings (Graduation), a party in the Living Caverns!

Who Br'er, E'don, Yules, Maosa, T'ral, tasna, Kyara, Q'fex, Kultir, G'deon, L'ri, Nora, Jesha, Prymelia
What After the Weyrlings become Senior Weyrlings (Graduation), a party in the Living Caverns!
When There are 0 turns, 6 months and 20 days until the 12th pass
Where Southern Weyr



Living Caverns
Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in naturally-vaulted ceiling that soothes any sense of claustrophiba. Rich woods line the cavern floor, varnished and stained a rich mahogany, while round tables scatter about candlelit and intimate. The largest table lies southerly next the sideboard, long trestles that seem oriented to providing for the weyr's youngest. The rich blue of Azov can be seen from a distance in good weather, when the heavy stone doors covering the entrance are allowed to stand open.

"Oh, of course. You know me and a party." It's platonic to grab someone's elbow, isn't it? Because Br'er brushes his hand against Q'fex's, the better to nudge him towards the general direction of the caverns. FESTIVITIES AWAIT!

Celebrate! Or sulk. In all of the revelry and back patting E'don has been getting, he seems like he has one purpose and one purpose only. Drink. Drink long and drink hard and drink with full and utter abandon. The newly minted wing second weaves through the living cavern's celebratory crowds, right up to the drink table with a long and desperate sigh. A skin is grabbed. And a bottle. Make that two. The guy's hands are just stock full of booze (and one glass), and he makes himself to the nearest table that isn't crowded with people, plopping down with a determined grunt. "Shots!" He says with a spirited yelp. "Shots for everyone!"

Yules is still looking a bit perplexedly at her knot as she makes her way into the Caverns, trying to figure if she's supposed to wear it on her shoulder, her head, or eat it. In fact, the knot is on her way to her mouth before eyes go blank a second, and the knot is lowered again. Not full of tasties. So instead, Yules looks up with a cheerfulesque face at the promise of shots, and Yules manages to get a glass of something clear but doesn't smell like water. At all, from the way her eyes water after a sniff. A sip gets a cough. "Good stuff!" she tells whoever handed it to her.

"Do you mind if I take one of these?" See, Maosa has been listening to her lessons about manners! "Oh - hey, Yules -" And then she reaches to take one of the bottles, a hand lifted to catch Yules' attention, without waiting for E'don's response. She's been listening, but she hasn't absorbed.

Right on E'don's heels, T'ral marches to the drink table. He's a little worried by the grim look on E'don's face. He'd bear looking after tonight. He grins taking shot after shot from E'don and passing them along. Once they're all distributed, he clears his throat, ceding the floor to Yules, Cerise or E'don if they'd have it. A toast…?

And who's manning that drink table? Why, just one of the friendly local bartenders by the name of Tasena. With quick smiles for everyone, she and another bartender are already busy mixing drinks, while glasses of white and red wines stand ready for the taking already. "What'll it be, fellas?" Tas asks the first arrivals while the other chats up a couple riders.

Kyara saunters in amidst the crowds gathering to party, and immediately finds it fairly easy to track down that friend of hers. E'don. He's the one yelping. With the booze. With a chuckle and a shake of her head, she wanders to the table he's just claimed and plops down right beside him. "I'll take one," she states, leaning forward onto one elbow to regard him with a grin. She reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, but doesn't say congratulations, exactly. Just smiles.

Glass in hand, Yules drifts towards the knot of Weyrlings which considering the size of the clutch, is a pretty big knot. "Hey, Maosa," she says with a lift of the liquid - vodka, in fact. Bad vodka. Yules' nose wrinkles and she tries to find a convenient place to set it down unobtrusively (oh hai, table). "How's everything here?" T'ral's offering shots so just in case someone gives her another bad vodka (that was surely not provided by Tasena and company), Yules seizes the day and the drink with grateful look.

"Go right ahead. Drink from the bottle." E'don responds back to Maosa, not even glancing up from his focus on the glass in his hand. That is, until Kyara shows up and he glances up with a smile that hasn't graced his face from the start of this whole thing. "Oh, hello you," he responses with a camradic edge to his voice, merry, even if resigned. The filled glass in his hand is offered to the green rider, before he's glancing around the table for another filled glass. "Gimme' one before T'ral toasts. And hey, focus on Yules. She's the man of the candle mark." Or woman. Whatevs.

Into the fray enters Q'fex and Br'er, COINCIDENTALLY together as they enter into the living caverns. There's time to collect alcohol — a couple of glasses of wine — and they then steer over towards the weyrlings, Q'fex murmuring something into Br'er's ear before lofting his glass into the air. "Congratulations to you all!" That would be to - well - all of them. Except for Kyara, who receives a slight smile and an inclination of his chin in a nod.

Kultir has been lounging at an out of the way table, having slipped back into the Weyr well after the time the Graduation ceremony started. He nurses a rather large serving of wine as he watches those he's spent Candidacy with file in, a slight smile on his face. Simple observation for the young man tonight, congratulations when he can but for now, just watching his friends move to the next stage of their lives.

Thank you, E'don; Maosa will. Drink straight from the bottle, specifically - and immediately thereafter pause, make a wretched 'WHAT' face, and… carefully set the bottle back down. "Is there water." Well. At least someone is going to be sober to haul everyone home to their weyrs, there's that, isn't there? "Yules." This is said with dignity, but also a wide smile. "Congratulations."

T'ral holds his glass aloft, "E'don. You poor, poor bastard. As badly as I feel for you, I feel worse for the rest of us." He grins, taking the sting from the words, "Congratulations. I look forward to flying under your wing. But maybe off to the side a bit." He swivels the glass to the lovely greenrider, "Cerise, Esanth says that Jiamoth is the heart of the wing." His fond look grows serious, "I say you're the spine. Congratulations, I look forw-" He breaks off for brief conference with Esanth, that tugs his smile sideways, and he shakes his head. No way pal. He continues, "For my sake and everyone else's, please assign Esanth to formations that don't have Jiamoth in them." And finally, Yules. "Yules. I don't think anyone was surprised by your appointment." He looks around gathering in the agreement, nods all around, right? Damn skippy. "You and Desmeth will lead us well. Congratulations. I look forward to flying under your wing." He raises the glass a final time, grinning around, "To Catmint and our new leaders!"

Surely Yules knows how shots go - all in one big gulp, yeah? Instead, she's sipping at it slowly, preserving the flavour on her tongue. E'don's offer of the bottle has Yules holding out her shotglass as if for a refill. If you drink smaller, you drink less, right? That's the theory? Whether her glass is refilled or not, she pulls it back in for another teensy sip, trying not to laugh at the face Maosa makes. "Maosa," Yules replies in kind, and then grins, "Thanks. I'm still a bit…" surely there's a word other than flabberghasted, "bemused." T'ral is leading the toast, it seems, and Yules raises an eyebrow in response to his toast to her, "I was." The slightly sardonic note leaves it open to interpretation: is Yules making a joke? All by herself?

Nora has spent most of her evening ducking in and out of the kitchens, but now, a glass of wine in hand, she actually seems to have a moment to herself, spent catching her breath, taking a sip and glancing around the collection of familiar faces. As a toast sounds out, she lifts her glass in time — why not — and takes the excuse for another mouthful.

"Yes, well." Whatever Q'fex said, it makes Br'er, expression too blank, raise a hand to the other man's shoulder. It sort of stays there. The other hand comes up to lift his wine in a toast. "To the weyrlings! May your hard work bring you success, now and in the future." He might be eyeing a few of them in obvious speculation. Someone's looking for prospective Servals, it seems.

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence." E'don drawls back T'ral's way with a quirk of his eyebrow. Backhanded compliment? Well, that isn't lost on him, but he doesn't seem at all bothered by it. He knocks back his shot in one gulp, a reflexive wince scrunching his eyes tight. "Uhg, this stuff is terrible. Someone pour me another." All of Yules and Cerise's congratulations are met with a nod in the affirmative, but one can't miss the slightly sad look on the bronze rider's face. "Huzzah!"

Tasena steps to the side to mix something complicated and fruity for one of the bronzeriders. Yeah, that's right. She then sets to work setting up more wineglasses to replace the quickly disappearing ones. Some of the requests get shunted to the other bartender, who is dutifully dealing with the beer requests, but you want liquor? "Don't go to the amateurs next time," she calls over to E'don, likely based more on the look on his face than anything else.

Q'fex steers Br'er away from the knot of weyrlings, gently, the better to gang up on Nora. Or at least start to converge on her location "They're bonding. A good thing." The weyrlings, bonding together. Or something. "Quit looking at them like they're fresh meat. Serval isn't that bad off." An amused glint, then, "Nora!" called. "Lovely setup you have here." He gestures expansively with his wineglass to the living caverns at large.

Kyara accepts the glass from E'don with an inclination of her head, toasting along with all those others given. "Congratulations, all of you," she says to all the weyrlings present, tipping her glass particularly at their new wingleader. "On behalf of Igen Weyr." The she looks back to E'don, tilting her head a little at the sad expression before reaching into her pouch and producing a flask, brandishing it at him. "This isn't so terrible, if you'd like," she offers. Then the call from the bartender draws her attention, and she glances back at him, smirking. "Or you could go over there, too."

With his part in the day's events done, G'deon makes almost directly for those comfortable chairs off to the side, though not without begging a passing drudge to bring some wine on the way. Easing into one of the chairs, he slowly surveys the cavern, then grins at Jesha. "Can you even believe we were ever that young?" he muses quietly, then thanks the drudge for the glasses of wine, offering one toward the brownrider.

"Excuse me -" That's Maosa, nodding to her clutchsiblings, before ambling silently over towards another table. There's an unguarded glass of water there, you see, and if it's unguarded that obviously means she can take it. SCIENCE. And then she ambles back over, staring silently at the cluster of weyrlings. After a moment of careful analysis: "This is a party," she tells E'don, solemn as the grave. "Don't look sad."

Joke fallen flat, Yules is too busy to mourn it, accepting the congratulatins of those who drift by - one being her erstwhile former associate, D'gert. "We'll talk later," she promises him, and turns back but alas, Maosa has turned to E'don for chats, so Yules nods graciously (like an ostrich) to Kyara's greetings, "Thanks kindly, Greenrider…" there's a pause before she finishes, "Kyara," which is followed by a big grin. Success! As for E'don, Yules nods seriously, "It's going to be fun." This could be code.

"Amateur schmamateur," calls out Jesha, good-naturedly raising a drink (having misplaced her cane long ago in lieu of using a BILF as a support device) with her free hand. "I'll keep tasting what you're pouring there, lady. As you can see, I have excellent taste." From under the brim of her endearingly flopsy, Bialikian hat, she shoots a quick glance upwards at G'deon and smiles, her teeth bright against the shade the felt bucket casts over her face. For now, she is content with the company, and content to cast long looks around the room at old and new faces to memorize them all.

Late. Very, very late. Just like a certain white rabbit, Prymelia is muttering the words over and over again under her breath as she stalks (rather than the graceful glide she might otherwise have gone aimed for) into the Living Caverns. In fact, she doesn't look nearly as put together as she might have liked but has at least managed to scrub most of the mud off and change into something a little less Wild Mountain Woman.

T'ral grins (at Yules' joke?) and knocks back the shot, wincing at the burn. Next one will be something worth drinking. He swipes a hand across his mouth, throat burning. He rolls up to Tasena and snags a glass of wine, gesturing towards the newly minted Catmint leadership. Minted. GET IT. Yules that was for you. "Something for that lot," he requests," Whatever she makes he takes, "Thanks," He gathers up more drinks and returns to the knot weyrlings. Senior weyrlings. A glass tip and a nod to the roving eye of Br'er. He grins at Kyara's kind words and squints… she seemed rather fond of E'don. He hands the drink to E'don with a grin, "Come on, you'll be great." He cocks his head, "You're leading us. We're the best. It'll be cake."

"I'm not settling for the dregs," Br'er informs Q'fex, loftily. "Arianne and I have plans for some of those youngsters." He's been her wingsecond for, what, a couple sevendays? And they're already making grandiose Plans? He allows himself to be steered towards Nora, lifting a hand in salute of the assistant headwoman. "Yes - quite a setup. I'm sure half the Weyr will have hangovers in the morning."

Nora answers the call of her name with an expectant lift of fine eyebrows and that it's a compliment that follows? Well: "I can't take all the credit." But have no fear, what credit she is due is accepted readily with the pleased stretch of her grin, the gleam of her eye. "How are you this evening, sir?" she asks of Q'fex, with an easy sway of her weight. A glance skims to Br'er as well, since they seem to come as a duo, drifting down to be sure he, too, has a glass in hand. "Sirs."

"I'm not sad." E'don whinges at Maosa with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, and he leans forward to refill his shot glass. "This stuff is disgusting." He confirms again, taking it back like a champ once again. "Elug! Tasena, why don't you pour me one then. Help a poor sucker out." Is a wink thrown in there? oh gross. Now the alcohol is really flowing, and the poor guy will probably not be long for this night without some sort of gaft. He's about to add something to the conversation between Kyara and Yules, that is until he catches Pyrmelia out of the corner of his eye. And just like that, he's getting the Igen rider's attention by grabbing her hand, just like that. "Oy, Kyara— dance in a few, will you?"

"The alcohol has already hit them," Q'fex comments of the self-preoccupied weyrlings, a wry amusement twisting his lips for Nora's behalf. To Br'er he has a LOOK. "I'm slightly concerned about this 'Arianne and I' you have sprouted forth with. Are you sure you don't want to be weyrsecond?" There's a teasing nature to it as if it's something that has been asked many a time. To Nora: "Myself, I am delighted. Progress. Are you enjoying yourself, or basking in the glow of a job well done?" The last to Nora, of course, and not Br'er.

"You look sad." Maosa fixes E'don with a steady, unwavering stare. So, the only kind of stare she has. "Maybe you should drink water if you don't like booze." Thank you for your unsolicited advice, Maosa! Abruptly the wild girl loses interest in the conversation, leaning her hip against the table and concentrating on her glass. Don't mind her, she's just off in her own little world.

Nora's brow arches faintly for the banter between Q'fex and Br'er, a quirk on her mouth amused and asking as well if the greenrider might have a different answer to the apparently oft-asked question. But she's also quick enough to grin happily when the Weyrleader turns his queries toward her. "Enjoying and basking," she says with a little lift of her glass. "Why have one or the other when you can have both?" But she's hardly got the glass to her lips before someone is poking their head out of the kitchens and calling for her. "If he keeps turning you down, I'll accept the job myself," she quips to the two men with a cheeky little wink. "Excuse me." And then it's back to the grind for the headwoman.

Yules's ears perk up at the promise of delicious ca… oh. That gets T'ral a slightly dirty look and huff. Making promises about cake. We'll just see about that! It seems that the crowd is starting to section off into smaller groups, so Yules tries to find a nice corner to hide in… except for that encouraging little tone that won't let her hide along the walls, no no! She is now a Wingleader! Time to get out and Wing, and lead! Well maybe the second tomorrow. The last of whatever Yules has been drinking gets drained, and perhaps unwisely, Yules steps up to the bar and calls to Tasena and colleague, "A glass of white, please!" Wooo, you wild and crazy lady!

Grinning when she realizes how the weyrling wingleader deduced her name, Kyara inclines her head and uses the same ploy. "You're quite welcome, brownrider Yules. And good luck to you. From someone who was exactly where you are now, not long ago. I'm sure you'll be brilliant." Then E'don is grabbing her hand, eliciting small noise of surprise and very raised eyebrows before she's chuckling. "Yeah, sure!" And here she thought she'd be the one having to talk him into a dance.

Kultir sips his wine, his observations taking him down to less than half a glass. He smiles again as he watches the newly knotted Seniors getting smashed together. Draining his glass, he deposits it on the table and pushes to his feet. Strolling over to the table full of weyrlings, the young man sweeps his gaze to the ones closest to where he stops. "Congrats, all. You deserve it." he says, voice just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the crowd. "Stay safe up there, eh?" With a backward wave, he heads out to the bowl, time to get home and get to sleep.

Br'er has a faint smile for Q'fex; a faint smile, and a muttered comment. It's probably best not to ask. "You should ask her," the greenrider says, possibly seriously, probably not, as the assistant headwoman departs. "She's efficient and good at paperwork. And then you'll stop asking me, is the important thing." The man eyes the bar, and eyes the crowd, and then eyes the Weyrleader. "It's a commendable spread, but I feel like this party is… missing something." Ominous!

You overhear Br'er mutter, "You … … … … … she … … are going … do … drink … … … … … You're … … … getting … … the table." to Q'fex.

T'ral looks dubiously at the fistful of drinks for the wingmates that he'd brought over. "What the heck do you guys thinks these are for?" He grins at Kultir and gives a nod to the tracker on his way out. "Thanks!"

Tasena mixes a multi-layered shot just for E'don. She'll just… keep it safe for now. Wine for the new wingleader, as the bartender gives Yules a thumbs up, more wine, and other wine, and another wine for T'ral… Not quite the time and place for bartender conversations, so she'll just get down to business, now and then swapping spots with Yarl, the other bartender. Or at least, Yarl is what he goes by. Gotta be short for something, right?

The gaiety of the living caverns this night is quite a contrast from the solitary plod back to the Weyr. On foot. Thus the recently arrived trader woman takes a few to get her bearings and adjust to it all, hazel regard roving over the crowd gathered. Slowly familiar faces start to be picked out. E'don's first by virtue of his lanky height and she sends a wave and a tentative smile in greeting his way. Kultir is next, the hunter earning similar though with less caution attached to the curve of lips and then she's angling straight for a certain bluerider, gliding in behind him just as he reaches his destination. "Hope you have a spare," she puts out there, gaze drifting over those assembled.

Ah, the fickle barbs of youth. It wouldn't be E'don if he didn't follow Pryemlia's purposeful march towards the rest of the weyrlings, and also not acknowledge her wave. Cookies? What cookies. "I'll take your word on it. About the being brilliant part." He answers this back out to Kyara with a wide smile as his attention moves back towards the green rider. Bah, no more moods for the night. "Save my drink for me, Tas," is called over the bronze rider's shoulder, and he's probably whirling his dancing partner onto the dance floor a bit too eagerly. "I've had practice since your hatching. No steppin' on your feet this time." And then they both dance. Presumably all night. Or something.

"She would make three times the weyrsecond you would," Q'fex affirms to Br'er, his smirk extending. "I… hmm. It is missing something." That mutter is enough to have him cutting his gaze sideways, though, and without further comment the weyrleader and wingsecond wind off to parts unknown; exit, stage left.

Even if her being taken out to dance is a little overeager, Kyara goes willingly. Anything to get E'don to stop moping, and anything to get where the music is! "Oh, good. Because you'd earn a kick or two if I had to put up with it again," she teases, setting aside her drink and casting a shrug and a parting wave at the others at the table. Then she's off, and even if they're not dancing all night, it is for a good while.

T'ral registers Yules' disappointment about the cake shakes his head. He hands her a drink -now she has two. With a quirk of his brow at her looking around he murmurs, "Where to, ma'am?" T'ral watches Maosa's solemn plying of E'don's temper. Like watching a fisher-avian slowly wade in search of prey. And then he's off, swirling Kyara onto the dance floor. He looks at Maosa and nods solemnly. "What have you and Osweith been up to?" An innocent enough question, right? And then, abruptly, the wild woman is gone. Whoops. And then that voice, he turns, "Prymelia!" he grins and scowls at the drinks in his hand, "Uh, take any one you like. I've got a few."

Yules accepts her wine with a nod of thanks to Tasena and smiles after her first sip. "S'good!" she tells the woman who would know. T'ral also has drinks, far too many for his own good, so she takes what he's giving her with a grin, but before she can appropriately say thanks, he's calling over to Prymelia. Lovebugs. E'don… nope, he's off dancing. Hrmph, Yules is finally getting out to socialize and all her fellows are elsewhere! Hmph! So she looks mightly and espies the familiar head of D'gert, albeit on taller shoulders, and goes over to chat for a while. Or at least until the party shuts down or she goes to bed. It's like a choose-your-own-adventure.

There's slight purse of lips when E'don outright ignores her. Clearly he's still miffed with her. Now if she could only figure out why! But the bronzerider is gone and out on the dance floor with an unfamiliar greenrider and so it gets set aside to deal with another time. Right now, there's T'ral and that welcoming grin his wearing and booze and after the day she's had - Oh-yes-please-very-much! The drinks on offer are eyed, one that she assumes to be wine, chosen and carefully extricated from his fingers. "Sorry, I'm late. It appears mud wrestling takes longer than I imagined it might." Huh? Nope, that's not a bruise purpling along the back of her arm. Nothing to see here folks.

"Late? You're here!" His grin falters as he takes in the state of her dress, "Good grief, what have you been doing?" He shakes his head, that can wait for later… maybe? "If you haven't heard, our new Catmint wingleadership is: Wingseconds: Cerise and E'don, Wingleader…" wait for it, "Yules." He grins and turns back to brandish a drink at Yules and… she's gone. He blinks and everyone has disappeared into little clusters. He shrugs, sets down his too-many drinks and gathers up Pymelia. "Tell me about your trip."

The happy babble and cheer continues long into the night.

In the morning, drills do in fact suck.

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