Who

Ja'kai (ST'd by Bailey), Tuli, T'ral, Hannah, Xh'zil

What

Ja'kai's first day as Weyrleader sees him winning all SORTS of new friends.

When

It is evening of the twenty-second day of the ninth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Southern Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Living Caverns

Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in naturally-vaulted ceiling that soothes any sense of claustrophoba. 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.

It is the twenty-second day of Spring and 70 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.


Thus passes the first day of Ja'kai's tenure as interim weyrleader, unnotable as it has been. The wings drill, pairs sweep, healers labor on those injured. Murmurs happen. More-than-murmurs happen. But who cares? It's good to be king. Ja'kai doesn't visibly SHOW that, glowering at his normal table — he's not moving to the weyrleader table anytime soon. (His distaste of Lendai is fairly legendary, after all.) He's eating waffles. WAFFLES, for dinner.

There's nothing wrong with breakfast foods outside of their proper sphere. But Tuli is sticking to lunch food for dinner, which is to say that the downed (doomed) goldrider is casually carting around a sandwich half the size of her head. It looks delicious: greens and sundried tomatoes and chicken and BACON, all the basic food groups. Fabulousness. She is on a beeline for the leadership table, because she ISN'T afraid of Lendai, but - there. The ANOMALY. Tuli probably thinks her scoping out of the Unexpected Weyrleader is subtle: it is not.

Day over? Tap the brakes, Gramps… it's not even sunset. T'ral is getting dinner. Actual dinner. With actual dinner-y things. Salad. Meat. Rolls. He's humming to himself headed for a table with… Whoa. He skids. Not sitting there. Then pivots neatly, also unsubtly, right into Tuli. Smash. While less disastrous than her last collision, it's a mess. Food goes everywhere. T'ral's eyebrows go up, "Ach! Are y-" his eyes widen instantly upon recognizing the visiting (doomed) goldrider. "Ma'am! I'm so sorry. Can I-" he's still holding his plate, a chest full of mashed tubers and somehow a leavy green tucked behind his ear, like a laurel of triumph, "—help?" Yikes.

Wheeze. Pause. Wheeze. Pause. Wheeze. Pause. This is Hannah's progress as she essentially trundles through the weyr's living caverns and finally falls into a seat near Tuli. "I'm done. I want to be done. And I'm not done. But I'm really, really done." These are random words tossed at the other goldrider as the pregnant weyrwoman tries (in vain) to reach for her ankle. Ja'kai? That jackass is ignored for now lest his FACE send her into early labor. It's at this point (maybe it was her sausage foot that helped poor T'ral's demise) that Hannah's blinking at T'ral, mouth slightly opened, emerald eyes large and round. Then to Tuli. Then surreptitiously to Ja'kai. "Tubers are in season this turn, Tuli," is what she states in an off-hand commentary manner that makes it totally real. Right? Right.

Xh'zil doesn't grace the living caverns with his presence during high traffic hours very often. Or even low traffic hours, really. Socializing is such a strain. But he has the unfortunate luck to pick now to try catching a quick something to eat. He'll just ignore most of what's going on for now. Food is more important than people, after all.

Waffles. Waffles are best. Ja'kai continues eating them, and returns Tuli's look with unmitigated hostility. He's an oldtimer, but that doesn't mean he has to LIKE fellow oldtimers. See: his eyes for Hannah. Nowtimers aren't free of it either, because he — oh there goes T'ral, with the smash and the food. His lips twitch into a smile, an affable and slightly condescending expression, and he pours a little extra syrup onto his toasty golden waffles of love and adoration. He misses Xh'zil's entrance in the midst of it all.

"My SANDWICH." Tuli's wail echoes off the stone walls. "It was PERFECT! So PERFECT!" She isn't concerned with the tubers and bacon and tomatoes all down her perfectly natty duds: she's just concerned with the loss of her FOOD. The woman mournfully kicks away a piece of fallen bacon, then STARES at poor T'ral. "Fardles, don't you watch where you're going?" Possibly she would pursue this accusation further, but a glimmer of guilty conscience suggests the Igenite miiiight be remembering that she, too, was paying precious little attention. "Hannah -" the latter's presence is now noted, and Tuli gestures dramatically in her direction, "- Hannah can you believe that, I had the PERFECT SANDWICH and now I don't!" Ja'kai's AFFABLE expression is noticed: Tuli gives him a bit of the ol' skull eye.

Dark eyes as wide as they'll go, "I'm so sorry. I'll make you another one. CRAP." He blinks over at Hannah, eyes pleading, Please don't let her kill me. He reaches out to scoop mashed tubers off of Tuli's, ah… Yeah. Not gonna do that. He looks around for something to clean with. There's -unsurprisingly- a bubble of empty NAPKINLESS tables around the Acting Weyrleader, so it is to Ja'kai that T'ral hustles. Drawing up to deliver a crisp salute, "Evening, Sir. Pardon me," quick as a flash he's snatched the napkin from Ja'kai's neck and returns to Tuli, "Uh… here?" And then, eyes darting about to make an account of the fallen Masterpiece he hustles by nodding at Xh'zil as he hurries past, calling a warning, "Watch out there!"

Help? Hannah wraps her arms around her belly and gives T'ral a helpless look. "T'ral — " she pauses, pale brows lifting, "That's your name right? One of Dhiammarath's? Could you get us some drinks?" She gestures to Tuli and herself, "And if you wouldn't mind maybe nabbing me some of those sweet treats over by that unapproachable bronzerider?" Not only does this save T'ral from Tuli's wails, it might just get her something delicious to nibble on. The sweet, warm smile she gives the bluerider is more sweet to the pie. "If you don't want it, I'll eat it. I think I could eat just about anything right now." Because hey, if it's too ruined for the other junior… WASTE not, WANT not. Xh'zil is eyed, but it's Ja'kai's waffles that get her chin-nodding towards the acting Weyrleader. "You could steal his waffles." Is that a dare? Surely not. Hannah's just moody, k?

Once Xh'zil has a plate full of food that's only purpose is to keep him alive rather than be delicious, though sometimes it does both, the bronzerider scans available tables. First it's his wing's usual table, but he gets distracted by the mess that's been made around the foreign goldrider and the tiny, round goldrider, even eyeing the bluerider that said something a moment ago. Yeah, he'll just walk around that and head to a favorable (?) spot, causing him to join Ja'kai without any particular greeting.

And there it is. It's one thing for Tuli — a broodmare — to give him the stank eye. It's another thing altogether for one of his FIGHTING RIDERS to take his SHIT without his PERMISSION. Ja'kai exhales loudly out of his nose, settles down his silverware with a certain amount of precision, and nods to Xh'zil once in crisp greeting before he stands up. "Keep people from stealing my waffles, would you please." It's a stated request, before he's chewing in on… "Wingrider T'ral." His voice is ominous. "I understand that you have lost your memory, but I did not realize that also included losing your mind." He shoots Hannah a single, frosted look. "Goldrider," his voice pitches instead to Tuli. There seems to be communication that goes without being said.

"I don't want sweet things," grouses Tuli, plopping down besides Hannah with an air of injured dignity. "I want bacon. And sun-dried tomatoes, and lettuce, and BREAD. No pastries. No WAFFLES. Who do I have to kill around here to get a simple sandwich." She might (indeed, probably would) go on, except: something in that silent communication. The young woman gives Ja'kai a look. A long, long look. She blinks, slowly. And then, without context: "No." She casts a wary eye at T'ral, and any who might be near him (Xh'zil, by default, is thus included). "Bluerider," oh, the world-wearying tones of her voice, "leave the man's waffles alone, I don't want them."

T'ral nods at each successive addition to the list of deliciousness he's now responsible for as he piles a plate with sandwich fixins. He gives Hannah the high sign, Message recieved before looking up innocently at the command NOT to steal Ja'kai's waffles. His brow furrows lightly, "I wouldn't think of it." Napkins, okay. Waffles, no. And then that booming voice. T'ral freezes. Comically. One foot in the air, hands splayed, as he's poised to move along the buffet. He turns, drawing up under that icy address, "The two are," he darts a look at Hannah and Tuli, "Undoubtedly related, Sir." He looks at Xh'zil, Back me up, yo.

"Mmmm, that is a pickle," Hannah's expression is sad, woeful, and that's what's turned to Ja'kai for his frosty look of doom. She meets it with a SMILE. A wide, warm, smile that shows more than a hint of teeth and is rife with happiness of doom. "Surely, our esteemed Weyrleader can fix this situation. I've heard," sagely doth the goldrider poke the angry bear, "that Weyrleaders can make a mean sandwich." Xh'zil and T'ral aren't ignored exactly, but the woman's full attention is on Ja'kass - er - Ja'kai.

There's a brief, distasteful look given to Ja'kai's waffles and no actual acknowledgement for the request to protect them from other people, but no protest either. Xh'zil settles into a position that makes it possible to continue watching the drama, except that he doesn't seem particularly interested in it of itself. Instead he studies the goldriders and the bluerider, the latter of which receives no backing up and a look that might as well be saying, 'Do I know you?' Of course once Hannah speaks up, whether she's inadvertently ignoring him or not, he corrects, "Acting Weyrleader."

Oh, people just want to see Ja'kai go NUCLEAR, is that it? Tuli's refusal, T'ral's rebuttal, Hannah's sandwich-making jab, Xh'zil's clarification… well, if Ja'kai was lighter skinned he'd be turning red. "You are grounded," he growls low, pointing a ferocious finger at T'ral. "I expect a ten page essay on the correct etiquette regarding superiors and the differentiation between fighting riders and goldriders. By this time next seven." He dismisses him, and the situation at hand, with a cold look for both Tuli and Hannah. "Goldriders." He makes it sound like some kind of venereal disease, and there is a leap of a vein on his forehead for Tuli in particular. Xh'zil, he doesn't even respond to.

"I don't think even a Senior Weyrwoman," observes Tuli, with a too-pointed air of off-handed observation, "could justly claim the right to order someone to rub mashed tubers in someone else's face. I mean. Generally. And a Weyrleader… of course not." Oh so casually, she examines her fingernails, before dismissing T'ral, Xh'zil and ESPECIALLY Ja'kai from her attention. "So, Hannah - how are you?"

Grounded! T'ral's never been grounded. That he remembers. But the real offense is academic. T'ral's brows draw down, "Those topics are related but not congruent, Sir. That's a very strange Thesis for a-" urk. His throat clicks as the cannier part of his brain shuts his throat DOWN. He swallows at the look of ire on the Acting Weyrleader's face. "I'll have it to you soonest, Sir." He looks at the plate in his hands and back at the Leadership table. He's been dismissed without anyone saying so, but there is the matter of a sandwich to construct. And a pregnant and chippy junior Weyrwoman to feed. Dark eyes survey Xh'zil speculatively as the bluerider reconstructs Tuli's Masterpiece. Sweets assembled on a separate plate, beverages gathered, T'ral turns his attention to getting -SAFELY- to the Leadership table.

"Males are temporary, right Tuli? It's not like the Weyrleader is ever chosen for his skills but for how quick they are in catching tail." Hannah's offhand comment is husky and full of dark, spulcher feel. "It is strange that this time just relegates us to broodmares. When it's the Senior that never changes. The men just flit about her like little flies. Getting all prune-y in their lust for power." She even does jazz-hands before settling down and cutting everything with a penis out of her field of vision. "I would say good because you're supposed to, but I'm really a mess of aches and pains and there's a little person inside me that's currently kicking me in parts of me that shouldn't be touched. I am," this comes with a sincere, warm smile. "Good. How is Elicheritath? I've heard she's slowly mending?" Concern is etched now. But before she can even finish her thought, Hannah frowns and bites her lower lip. "Uh… excuse me." With effort, she gets up and quickly makes her way to the exit.

Xh'zil pays little attention to the bluerider's punishment except what Ja'kai says about superiors and whatever. That makes him frown uncharacteristically. "I, of course, mean no offense, Ja'kai," which probably means he's about to say something kind of offensive, "But your only real power is as Weyrlingmaster. Any respect you're given as Acting Weyrleader is out of respect for Q'fex and Q'fex alone." That's saying something all on its own. "You're a greenrider. And you playing at Weyrleader is laughable at best and offensive at worst." To him, anyway.

Maybe Xh'zil can co-author T'ral's Dissertation.

T'RAL DON'T DO IT you have so much to live for!

Ja'kai has a strange, strange look for Tuli, his brows drawing together as thunderclouds. "Are you implyi…" He doesn't even finish that, shaking his head and muttering something quite loudly under his breath. The last part of it seems to end, "… Igen's heat scrambling … left of … mind." T'ral draws YET ANOTHER sharp look. "Add another three pages on the merits of silence, bluerider." He looks at Hannah with the amused condescention of a wise man dealing with some frippery, foolish girl. "All pruney indeed, my dear. Leave the real work to the menfolk, you'll sleep better at night. Don't worry your pretty little head over anything, you just have that baby and keep Th'seus happy, you hear? He's a very," his eyes flick down to her baby-bump and then back up, supercilious in very mien, "Productive wingleader." And productivity will out as most important of all things of import, of course. Children and threadfall alike. Silence FALLS as Xh'zil speaks, though, and Ja'kai's look to him is calm and collected and underpinned with disdain at the bronzerider's ineptitude at social interactions. "You are grounded and demoted, weyrling. Report to the barracks in the morning." There's the faintest pause. "If you fail to appear, I will have you transferred to Igen." There is no emotion on his face, but the threat is not an empty one. The big weyrleader turns, then, and exits.

Ja'kai mutters, "… goldriders … … … are all just like … senior, … … … … … … … … … … … … … …" to himself.

"How," says Tuli, slowly, greatly fascinated, "has no one murdered him yet?" With Hannah gone, she is, too - though she does take the food T'ral brought her, because, you know. Goldriders gotta eat.

Food delivered, T'ral, for the first time, looks down at his clothes. "Oh, great." He digs a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabs ineffectually at the… he sighs. He looks up at Xh'zil, "Wow. You really put your foot in it, eh?" He walks over, dabbing at his shirt, "I'll make a request of you for 'research.' So you don't end up shovelling crap." He blinks, squinting, "Unless you'd rather do that?" He twists on bootheels looking back at the bronzerider. The weyrling bronzerider. "I'm T'ral, by the by. Blue Esanth's. I don't think we've met." He ambles over and sticks his hand out.

The bronzerider eyes the Igen goldrider as she goes. Nothing inappropriate. One would be hard-pressed to see him looking at anyone like that. But since T'ral is talking to him, Xh'zil politely turns his gaze on the bluerider instead. "I was just speaking my mind." Which, yes, often becomes foot-in-mouth syndrome. "Don't bother. He'll be gone soon enough." He probably means because of a flight, not because of Bad Things. "Xh'zil. Mishonth's." The hand is accepted, shaken firmly, then released.

"Fair enough," T'ral had done the same. "Good to meet you, Xh'zil." T'ral doesn't look up, he's really focused on getting the mess off of his… What's this? he grimaces, pulling a leaf of sandwich greens from behind his ear. "Dashing," he gives Xh'zil a bit of an exasperated look. "Fair… barracks," T'ral winces, then sketches a salute at the bronzerider before turning on his heel to leave.

Xh'zil only watches T'ral for another moment before he's refocusing on his meal. And he seems to be taking his demotion remarkably well. That or he's just already decided that he'd rather pack up for Igen than show up at the barracks in the morning. A nod is offered to T'ral's salute, but the bronzerider doesn't say anything as the bluerider turns to go.

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