Who

Amania, F'kan, Frostana, N'iel, Rhuysarr, Therst, Xanthee

What

Xanthee gets caught breaking THE rule of candidacy. Consequences happen.

Follows on from Stitch 'n Bitch

Implied sex

When

It is evening of the seventh day of the first month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Stables, Candidate Barracks, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 21 Sep 2017 23:00

 

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Stables

The stone stables of Southern sweep breezily in arches and vaulted ceilings, done in the same architecture that figures so prominently within the inner caverns. A half-loft in the back shows neatly stacked hay bales, the sweet scents from the fodder drifting down to commingle with the aroma of runner and leather and sweat. There, broad box stalls house inhabitants safely away from the fancies of dragons: nickers and restless stompings fill the air, nirvana to those so inclined.


It's close to an hour until lights out for the Candidates but in the stables there is some rustling going on in the back, up in the hayloft. A long with the rustling, there are hushed voices, breathy and frantic, as well as rhythmic movement causing some creaking going on. If one were to wander closer, they may hear small moans or cries that are being attempted to be muffled without much sucess. A high girlish voice lets out a little squeak before muffling the giggle that follows. The place is still, the only other life here the runners trying to doze in their stalls.

Rhuysarr is generally the live and let live type. He's all for allowing people to dig their own graves and enjoy the harvest of their own mistakes. So when he happens to spot both Xanthee and a faintly familiar rider going into the deserted stables, he's perfectly willing to let them have their moment alone. Only, they don't come back out. Curiosity gets the better of him, and the wildling decides to inspect those stables. Which is how he overhears the sort of sounds that imply a bit more than some ill-advised necking. He'll live and let live, yes, but only only so far. The wildling vanishes again, and when he returns it's with N'iel at his heels. Wordlessly, he gestures toward the loft.

N'iel is still holding out hope that Rhuysarr is mistaken with what he's heard, but the green rider's face is gloomy as he follows after the candidate, as quiet as the wildling as they approach. With a nod of thanks, the rider advances towards the stables, placing his feet carefully so that he can listen to what's going on. His expression only grows more dour as he does, as described, hear the sounds of misbehaviour. Stepping quietly into the stables, he'll make his presence known with a loud and very unsubtle clearing of his throat.

"Shards!" That wasn't muffled, as the female voice exlaims as all movement in the loft stops. More muttered curses are said, both male and female voice. More russling, but this time it sounds frantic. After a few moments, Xanthee descends the ladder to the loft, her short tunic inside out, wavy black hair mussed up with sprigs of hay poking out here and there. Her sandals are in her hand as she comes to stand in front of the greenrider and the wildling boy. Her face is flushed and red with embaressment as well as her previous exersions. Next comes down F'kan the brownrider, his shaggy blond hair disheveled, his pants on, but his shirt thrown over a shoulder, his boots in his hand as well. He looks at the pair down there as he stands next to Xanthee, a look on his face of the feline who got into the cream as he stares them down.

Rhuysarr doesn't truly feel like he needs to say much — he delivered the message to someone with the authority to do something about it, and now he's just the observer. He does, however, look at the pair with clear disapproval, the focus of his judgment falling largely upon Xanthee.

The look N'iel briefly sends F'kan's way is intensely disapproving, for a young rider who should know better. When his attention comes back to Xanthee, now stood before him, it's still disapproving, but there's some disappointment there, too. He looks rather like someone's parent who's caught them doing something bad, but is hurt as much as stern. "Xanthee," he begins, speaking slowly as much for authority as to pick his words carefully. "Can you explain what you were doing here?" N'iel's voice is soft, but there's a strength in it despite the tone.

Tears welling up in her eyes, Xanthee's lower lip begins to tremble as she tries to speak. At first she merely squeaks before clearing her throat and trying again. "We…I just…We were…kinda together." she says her voice quavering. F'kan takes the intensely disapproving glare and dials back the smugness and decides now is the time to form his own defense. "She pursued me sir. She was relentless. Sending me messages, setting up meetings. I was just along for the ride." Xanthee's emerald green eyes grow wider as he begins to lay the blame on her, she is so shocked any words she tries to form come out as sputtering, her face a bright angry red now.

Rhuysarr actually laughs as F'kan offers up his defense, the sound cold. While he fully blames Xanthee for her own bad choices, no one would ever believe that he wasn't an equal partner in this mess. "Did you just trip and fall between her legs earlier?" the wildling can't resist questioning, his face expressionless as he watches the man. "Surely a rider has the power to resist a lowly candidate." And then he'll fall silent, because he's not really meant to be commenting.

That's gonna get you a really nasty look, F'kan. Bad enough to be complicit in this, but throwing the candidate fully under the bus? Not cool. "Enough," he says, in probably the most steely voice any of those present has ever heard from the usually cheerful weyrlingmaster. "I've heard enough from you, F'kan." Yes, he remembers your name from weyrlinghood! "Take yourself to the weyrling barracks please, I'll see you there and we can discuss this with your Wingleader." With the barracks being empty (for now), it's a convenient place to use. Turning back to Xanthee, N'iel looks at least slightly sympathetic for her situation but, she's not innocent in all this. "Enough, thank you, Rhuysarr." Even though the other candidate silences himself, N'iel's firm request is given, though his eyes remain on Xanthee. "Xanthee, you do realise the consequences of what you've done?"

F'kan doesn't need to be told twice to leave this extra tense situation, the brownrider's off in a flash towards the Weyrling Barracks. Xanthee's tears have now completely overflowed and are running down her cheeks to drip off her chin onto her tunic, leaving wet stains. "Please." she pleads, "It was only this one time. I was trying to break things off with him till after the Hatching. I tried.." she trails off plaintively as she gasps for a breath. She knows deep down though that isn't going to fly, but she just feels the need to defend herself against his lies. Steeling herself and wiping at her tears with the back of her hand, she takes a few deep breaths to steel herself. "Sir. I broke a rule of Candidacy. I understand the consequences." her voice catches at the last word as she continues to wipe at her eyes.

Rhuysarr has to bite his tongue to keep from pointing out that she didn't just break A rule, she broke THE rule, but he's being a good little candidate after his momentary outburst. If N'iel wants him to stay silent, though… well, he knows where this is going anyway, so with only a brief salute, the wildling begins making his way toward the candidate barracks to give N'iel a moment of privacy with Xanthee. It has nothing to do with the fact that he has no idea what to do in the face of a bawling girl who brought this upon herself. Nope.

N'iel's eyes move slightly as he watches F'kan leave the scene of the crime, and then Rhuysarr, too, has gone. He's not a monster, and will extract a handkerchief from his pocket to offer it to Xanthee. "I'm sorry Xanthee, but the rules are the rules. Let's go to the barracks." He probably doesn't need to explain why they're going back there given the magnitude of what's happened - the tone of his voice says everything. There'll be collecting of things, goodbyes if Xanthee wants to, and then that'll be that. At the very least, as he leads her back, he'll make the walk slower so she has a chance to stop crying before she gets there.

Xanthee takes the offered hankerchief gratefully and begins to wipe at her face as she drops her sandals onto the ground in front of her, then slides them on her feet. "I know Sir. I made a stupid mistake for someone who is so apparently now, not worth it." her voice has a bitter edge to it, but she seems more angry with herself than anything. She continues to dry her tears as she takes up the greenrider's pace, forcing herself to take deep breaths to hopefully regain her composure before she has to face her fellow candidates.

Candidate Barracks
Perhaps the safest place in the weyr, these barracks: the stonework here is old, perhaps as old as the weyr is itself, for the uncanny cleanliness of ancient stonecutters marks neat corners and perfect arches. Richly-lit by glowlight, tapestries reflect scenes of yore from the walls - dragons flaming, holders farming, and one particularly well-made that depicts the impression of a dark-haired girl to a light-toned gold dragonet, dripping and fierce. The barracks themselves are open-air, with not even a curtain to divide the space of male from female. Bunk-bed style cots line each wall, hammocks strung along the middle for those unfortunate enough to lack the privacy that an adjoining wall brings. There are privies in the back and locker-style item storage in the front, and one especially large table next to a book-case filled with basic Harper texts.

Rhuysarr is the first of the missing candidates to arrive. The wildling looks grim-faced and almost angry, his lips on the verge of a scowl as he makes his way to the barracks. Without a word to his fellow candidates, he makes his way toward his bunk in the back corner. Something bad is coming, no doubt.

Dark brows hike a bit as Amania processes Frostana's answer, her gaze flicking from the bunk to the doorway and back in quick succession. "Hmmm… Thanks," she tells the other girl, trying to decide whether this news is more likely to herald something good or bad. Surely Xanthee wouldn't have waited this long to tell that brownrider she's putting things on hold… There's nothing she can really do, however, but wait for the younger Igenite girl to return. Then in comes Rhuysarr, more quiet and brooding than usual, and she watches him cross to his bunk concernedly.

N'iel and Xanthee aren't close behind Rhuysarr, but there's no doubt there's a link between the two separate arrivals. The weyrlingmaster's face is grim as he enters the barracks, gesturing Xanthee towards her bunk. In a low voice, for her ears alone, he'll say, "collect your things please, Xanthee." He doesn't sound unkind, but he's firm.

Frostana's mouth falls open. She glances about, but finds that Nox and Therst have bugged off to smarter corners of the barracks, their antennae more finely attuned to the trouble coming. As if Rhuysarr's face wasn't harbinger enough. She stands, hold the robe in her lap to her legs with the pressure of hands, "Uh." She looks at Amania, at Niel. At Xanthee.

Xanthee follows the greenrider, her face up, eyes red from crying but looking determined not to break down again. As N'iel instructs her, she goes to the bunk she shares with Amania and grabs her rucksack from her locker, hastily grabbing her meager belongings and packing them up. She can't even force herself to look at Amania, who she knows is so disapointed in her right now. She just can't handle the foolishness she feels for being so caught up in the wrong thing. Her lower lip trembles before she bites down on it to stop that.

Therst hasn't bugged far just under his bed, when the miner's got to mine as it were. Because as something wicked this way comes, here is the dark storm of Xanthee in trouble, he will reach out and pull Frostana out of the path of the hurricane if she doesn't get out of the way. He watches from his vantage point seeing Xanthee packing and has a clue what happened but is just as surprised as everyone else since she just told him that she had called it off for now..

When Xanthee comes in with N'iel, Amania straightens and takes a step away from her bunk as the AWLM tells the younger girl to…collect her belongings. There's a reflexive salute coming up for the greenrider as he says it, though it freezes somewhere around her cheek level as the words register and she feels her stomach suddenly go cold. Disappointment isn't the thing that immediately kicks in. "Xan?" The upward 'what did you do?' inflection is unmistakable before her brows steeple and her eyes widen. The dots connect, and the single word leaves her softly, resignedly. "No…"

N'iel isn't going to hurry Xanthee up any more than is necessary - as she comes to face her peers, he'll let her give as much or as little information as she wants before he moves on to getting her out of there before things get any more awkward or upsetting than they need to be. His expression has softened somewhat at least, but he's still much sterner-looking than he usually is.

Rhuysarr's expression is still just this side of thunderous as he forcefully moves his few things around his sleeping area, disappointment and frustration radiating off the man as he pointlessly busies himself with nothing. He's keen on keeping himself occupied, so he doesn't have to look over in Xanthee's direction.

Xanthee looks over at Amania, her eyes filling again with tears as she tries to keep them from falling. She pauses in her packing a moment before managing a whispered, "I messed up. I messed up bad." She continues with her packing, finishing up on her locker, and then reaches up onto her top bunk, grabbing her nightclothes that she keeps folded under her pillow. Shrugging on her mother's old riding jacket she looks at Amania, "I'll be back to see you Impress. I will be the one cheering the loudest." she says, a lump in her throat catching her words. She starts the long walk back down the barracks, slowly looking over her fellow candidates. She pauses at Therst bunk. "Good luck out there. You are a good friend, even if I didn't take your concerns to heart."

Figures Xanthee would flake. Frostana crunches her face hard, wincing at that meanspirited instinct. She makes a fist in her robes. The needle pricks her finger, "Dangit!" Ow. She unballs her hands, palms moist. She looks from Xanthee to Amania to N'iel. "Hey!" Arms flare at Therst's helpful 'relocation.' Surprise makes her drop her robe onto the floor. "DANGIT! Therst!" She stoops. It fell into a moist smear of mop swipe. Complete with flakes of firestone. "Great. Thanks." But there's a starker drama unfolding and she gathers her robe up in silence. A still even more uncharitable thought surfaces… Maybe Xanthee was done with her robe?

Therst comes out from under his hiding spot after failing to relocate Frostana and is addressed by Xan. He salutes the weyrling master, before for standing and giving Xanthee a hug. He has no words really for this but he tries anyway "Chin up, walk talk. You made a mistake, just learn from it." He gives her a smile and says "You better be there, you still owe me that tour of Igen."

Amania's jaw clenches, a lump rising in her throat at Xanthee's admission. Elaboration isn't needed for her to fill in the blanks after that. The disappointment is there now, certainly, and anger, though not for the other girl alone. But there's also a frustrated sadness that she didn't expect, and that is what renders klah-dark eyes overbright. Frostana's minor outbursts are ignored, Rhuysarr's deliberate preoccupation noted peripherally. She doesn't cry in front of anyone, and she's not about to start. She feels like she shouldn't even be close to it, all things considered, but…there it is. "I'll look for you," she says thickly, watching as Xanthee moves away, hands clenching and unclenching for want of making some sort of move but unable to decide what.

N'iel shifts slightly, beside the barracks entrance, with a meaningful look to Xanthee. He's there, and ready for her when she's finished her farewells - there seem to be a few ones important to her to finish.

Xanthee looks at Therst and smiles weakly, "Of course, I promised." As she sees Frostana soil her robe, she reaches into her pack and brings out a folded piece of white material and hands it to her. "This is a loan. I'm gonna need it back after the Hatching." she says with a weak smile. "It might be a tad on the short side." she adds apologetically. Continuing her walk she just merely throws a glance at the disapproving wildling boy and sighs as he's obviously avoiding looking in her direction. Nox is shot a glance from across the room but she doesn't think she can last too much longer before she breaks down again. She turns one final time as she reaches N'iel with her pack and looks at all the other candidates and says, "I apologize for my actions, they were unbecoming of a Candidate. I wish you all luck at the Hatching." she turns back to the greenrider and nods her head, indicating she is ready.

The tense emotion in the air isn't making her throat tight. Nope. Her eyes aren't moist. Nope. Frostana fishmouths at Xanthee handing her a robe. She flushes furiously, eyes dropping, then lifting to offer a quiet, "Take care." She brushes a flake of nothing from her sleeve, making a dash at her eye. "Dangit. Got something in my eye." Nope.

The miner watches his friend go missig out again on her dream. Therst will turn and sits back down on his bed, not really looking anywhere but the floor. After a time he will glace up at Amania as she was the one closest to Xanthee and is probably taking the hardest. He goes to speak but again can't find any words that would comfort her so he just sits there and waits to see what is needed.

Rhuysarr does little more than grunt his acknowledgment as Xanthee makes her farewells, unwilling — or unable — to summon actual words in answer. His expression still dark, the man settles himself upon his bed instead, turning his anger upward as he does his best to ignore the rest of the barracks. He knows the questions are no doubt coming, but… he'll take his moment to cloak himself in his frustration and ignore his fellow candidates.

Once her impulses sort themselves, Amania, teeth still gritted and that lump just getting bigger in her throat, strides across to where Xanthee has stopped and throws her arms around the other girl. "Go to the Zingari, if you need to," she murmurs roughly, and repeats, "I'll look for you," before releasing her. Then she strides back to her bunk, bracing her hands on the frame with her back turned to the room, going still as she masters what threatens to spill out.

The hug from Amania is the last straw, Xanthee's tears run over as she hugs the Zingari girl back. She darts out off the room before she breaks down any more.

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