Who

K'ane L'denn Cha'el N'tael Prymelia Sabina Niyati Qu'inn Bailey Suwert

What

The southern weyrlings are now Seniors!

When

It is midmorning of the seventh day of the seventh month of the second turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Upper Bowl & Beach

OOC Date

 

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Upper Bowl

The graceful sweep of spacious bowl lies scoured clean by an easterly breeze. Detritus is whisked neat to the eastern steppe of the bowl that lies several feet lower than the western plateau. White walls contrast the rough granite of the rivercliffs: the giant maw of the Hatching Cavern lies in the thickest part of the western wall, sheltering the training grounds and weyrling barracks lying nor'west. Directly north lies the leadership courtyard, heavily humid and subtly scented by intrigue.


There is a sharp chill in the air, for Southern at least, this day — which is clear, despite exaggerated rumors otherwise. Clear and bright and blessedly free of rain, a pastel sky of washed-out blue lingering as far as the eye can see. Underneath such sky are the assemblage of dragons: the weyrlingmaster staff awaits the ranks of their weyrlings. Everyone seems to be in formal garb — even K'ane, in an apparently brand-new set of dress leathers, black with piped-green edging. And new boots. Fancy that.

L'denn and Vindryth make their way to the upper bowl, both rider and dragon clean, pressed and gleaming. Vindryth's twilight hide sparkles with oil and L'denn's new leathers don't have a single scuff on them. Proud, the pair walks forward to find their place.

Cha'el and Sikorth are there, along the fringes of the happenings with the Weyrleader formally attired and leaned up against his brown's forearm. With arms folded across his chest, the next batch of Threadbait…erm…riders are given a close going over.

This is an EXCTING TIME, and the smallest of the weyrlings is having problems standing STILL and looking DIGNIFIED. N'tael is fidgiting in place, hiw formal clothing itching at his neck and hips with their stiff new-ness. At least he isn't talking, though he does elbow L'denn at least once to grin at him.

Scrubbed and polished with hair braided back in several rows close to her head and wearing the standard weyrling uniform, Prymelia and Issaeryth take their place. The green has obviously passed some or other comment because her red-haired rider is narrowing a look her way. But then its eyes front and standing to attention after eyeing those new boots of K'ane's. SPOILSPORT!

Efforts to scrub the scent of smoke out of certain portions of the Weyr are ongoing. Leading to Sabina's having her restday here as opposed to the Hold. Rumor of weyrling graduation had her snagging her coat and scurrying after a group seeking to watch. How is it the industrious little drudge manages to pop up at times like these? Luck and skill. Which results in her standing off to the side of the milling onlookers. Coat laced against the prevailing chill in the wind.

Niyati will let Kaiyth look still and dignified while she does all the smiling and fighting to to stand still. Even this ex-Weaver can have trouble hiding excitement when the reward has been this hard-won. At least she's made sure that the embelished uniform she's been working on for ages in the late evening is pressed and neat since the cherubic green is certainly at her dress best with her well oiled hide and flower patterned straps.

Curls flounce as Qu'inn strides into the bowl, Khozyvraith whomping along behind him. His uniform is neat, if a bit worn - nothing new here for the herder turned Weyrling. At least he looks awake; Zyv's freedom of flight seems to have come with an unexpected side-effect that's all to the good for both partners. Cheerful, if not chipper, the boy bounces into his place amongst the ranks of the junior Weyrlings, twisting slightly to shoot a grin at N'tael and L'denn. Bouncy bouncy go toes and curls - someone's excited and not afraid to show it!

There is a smile favored for each weyrling, one at a time: proud L'denn, fidgety N'tael, scowling Prymelia, excited Niyati, cheerful Qu'inn. "Weyrlings!" K'ane barks, his voice booming as it has wont to when the big man finds it appropriate. "Congratulations. You've not died, yet." His voices matches his words: droll, dry humored. "And you have flown with your lifemates, which means you are now senior weyrlings of Southern!" He steps forwards, grabs a bucket, and starts moving down the line, not one to stand on the ceremony of having weyrlings come forwards. The first weyrling he runs into — N'tael — is favored with a smile, and K'ane moves to affix the new knot on the bronzeling's shoulder. "N'tael of bronze Tlazotezath!" he calls loud enough for all to hear.

L'denn elbows N'tael back and flashes his friend a wide, proud grin. He's fidgeting a bit too, in those stiff leathers, but he's trying not to. His eyes scan his fellow Weyrlings, noticing a few of his closest friends, and he offers them wide, excited grins. Watching as K'ane moves down the line, the bluerider whoops when his friend gets his knot.

Bailey is here, in the back: her raucous cheer can be heard loudly as N'tael is bestowed with his knot. The redheaded weyrwoman sure looks strange, today: she's adopted a very, ah, avant-garde hairstyle, all-but-shaven up one side of her head, the other side long. Oh, and she's missing an eyebrow, too. It's … well. It's a strange look.

It's a close thing when N'tael doesn't reach out and hug K'ane when he puts that knot on his shoulder. CLOSE. But he manages to not do it, but instead locks hands behind his back and bounces on the balls of his feet with happy written over all his features. "Thank'e sir!" Behind, and slightly apart from the other young dragons, Tlazotezath's tail twitches, the only outside sign of his own pleasure at the advancement. The cheer has N'tael tilting sideways to see around K'ane (sorry, he's big) and one hand is freeded to wave! Wait, no, that's not proper. Oops?

Months of that booming voice have seen to it that this time, Prymelia doesn't near jump out of her skin. Instead her attention, having skipped down the line to where Niyati and Kaiyth are situated to offer a short smile, returns to the front and then skitters the other to way N'tael. Pride for the young bronzerider. But then, then there's another comment from Issaeryth who outwardly is as still and regal as nobility and the redhead's attention darts over to that big lump of a brown and…"Stop it!" Prymelia hisses under her breath.

To Sabina the weyrlings all look amazing in their various garb, lifemates standing at the ready like that. It's awe inspiring to say the least. The first hatchlings she ever saw break from the egg all look remarkable. Not to mention getting huge. Seeing them all spread out together like this is enough to make the breath catch in her throat. Just wow! How delightful for each of them and Bina is excited for them all. Joining the onlookers in clapping as senior weyrling knots begin to be passed out.

A wide grin breaks free from the Weyrleader as the first weyrling is knotted. But then Bailey's cheer pulls his gaze. Up goes a brow, that raccoon mask of bruising he's been sporting now beginning to fade. "Nice look, weyrwoman."

Niyati turns a grin towards Prymelia after eying K'ane's boots but she somehow manages not to laugh. She'd just been giving a hidden wave in Sabina's direction when N'tael's name is called and she cheers enthusiastically. It's then that the young woman's cheeks color toward red and she appears to have trouble not facepalming. Instead, she gives Kaiyth a stern look. "They're not trying to eat his face, they're bruises." It's a stage whisper before her attention goes back to the handing out of knots.

Behind the rows of Weyrlings, Khozyvraith sits back on his haunches, wings half spread as he turns his attention not to the ceremony before him, but to the sky above. Yeah, he has priorities, and they don't include silly things like new knots, ranks, or weyrs. Qu'inn, tucked a bit further down the ranks than the Weyrlingmaster's current position, hisses between his teeth and shoots a glance over his shoulder, then gives a soft, half-exasperated laugh. "Yeah, I know," he can be heard to mutter. "You ain't much for ceremony. That's two of us, but behave anyway." The light snicker that accompanies his murmur betrays his amusement.

"Don't make me slap you in front of the entire weyr," Bailey lightly returns to Cha'el, arching a single eyebrow over at him. "You know Ksenia would take my side." Business partners, man. Speaking of: Ksenia was WAY OFF about 'going into a dark place' being her downfall. It was vodka and fire. :(

Cha'el is so not DYING OF LAUGHTER on the inside at Bailey. Nope. Okay maybe a little in the twitch of lips. "No really. It looks good on you. You're going to start a new trend." SINCERE! As for the comment about his weyrmate, a true grin appears. "Did you get the bottle I left on your ledge?" The expensive GOOD stuff.

K'ane crooks his mouth into a grin at N'tael, claps the kid on the shoulder. "You're welcome, Nate," he returns, before moving down the line. This is obviously not the excruciatingly formal event that it normally is: weyrling names are called out, one at a time, including K'lir and bronze Bryntaeroth. Eventually he pulls up in front of Qu'inn, favoring the boy with a half-hid smirk. He murmurs something to the brownling with an extension of that joking expression before reaching forwards to pin the knot upon Qu'inn's shoulder: "Qu'inn, of brown Khozyvraith!"

You overhear K'ane mutter, "… … keep him from … … entire ceremony before … over, …" to Qu'inn.

"I saw no such thing," Bailey primly returns to Cha'el. With a side-eye: "If I did I would be forced to admit it to my business partner, who would doubtless be enraged and not want to do business with me by fact of feeling as if I'd been paid to do what I did." Beat. "Which I wasn't."

N'tael is just going to cheer for each weyrling, reserving and extra bounce and sky-fist-bump for when Qu'inn gets called out.

A sort of grunt slash snort greets Bailey's denial. "Ya welcome." For Cha'el doesn't believe for a minute that that bottle wasn't discovered. Though he does appreciate the subterfuge if that's what it is.

As one weyrling after another receives their knot, so Prymelia's smile grows wider. Qu'inn earns himself a quick thumbs-up and then once again, her attention sliiiides back to Niyati with a wicked little glow to hazel regard. Mischief afoot? No, not she.

"Dunno, sir, but I'm doin' my best." Something about Impression seems to have convinced Qu'inn to give up that so-careful hiding of his natural Keroonese drawl, and it's just one more indication of what a change Zyv has wrought on the young man's life. "Thank you." He doesn't seem quite as inclined as Nate to hug the bronzerider - but he does hold out his hand to the Weyrlingmaster for a handclasp, his expression an intense amalgamation of pride, respect, and joy. Khozyvraith's own thank you rolls through the bowl as he gives his own tenor bugle, whirling eyes for once fixed not on the sky, but on K'ane and Qu'inn.

The rumor mill has been grinding away while the lower caverns workers toil to scrub the fire kissed section of the Weyr. So it's only natural that Sabina's eyes go a little wide when the Jr. Weyrwoman is spied missing her eyebrow. And well.. half her hair! Perhaps the whispers are true and the woman stuck her head in the hearth like a 'touched' person. The result being the scorched room and dank smelling walls. Hrm.. the things the help will claim. And yet she is soon distracted in waving back to Niyati. The excited bounce on the balls of her feet while she tries to contain her exuberance. Failing that when L'denn and Niyati are knotted. Because she whoops and dances in place then. Before melting into the crowd to cover her embarrassment at actually yelling out loud.

"Indeed," K'ane comments in return to Qu'inn. His expression is easy, gentle amusement: whatever he said to the brownling was obviously said somewhat in jest. He does shake Qu'inn's hand, grinning to hear Khozyvraith's bugle. Back down the line - look, N'vik and Nivanth made it! - until he is in front of a familiar sight. K'ane's grin is completely unhidden for L'denn, and he lifts his voice in a, "L'denn and blue Vindryth!" perhaps louder than absolutely necessary. He pins the knot on the blueling and tucks his chin in a nod. A quiet, "Good job," is pitched for L'denn's ears only.

L'denn straightens up proudly and his grin is so wide it hurts, but he doesn't care. "Thank you, sir," he says, almost bursting with his excitement. Elsewhere in the crowd, D'ren's cheer is audible and that just makes L'denn grin even more, along with Sabina's. He starts to blush a bit. "Did your dad make it?" L'denn asks quietly to N'tael when K'ane has moved on.

Dads aplenty made it: though Kraakenaeth didn't give as much as a rumble for his lifemate's spawn, Q'fex's suspiciously tanned face is creased in a grin for the procession, the yet-grounded rider perched on the edges of the crowd and clapping for each weyrling — though none, perhaps, so much as one particular weyrling already passed.

Ignore the fact that by logic Nate's probably nowhere near L'denn HE TOTALLY IS. K'ane may have escaped physical affecition, but L'denn totally doesn't. He gets an arm snlung over his shoulder and a sidehug. "We made it!" The question has N'tael casting his eyes outwards on the crowd to settle on where his father is standing quietly beaming near D'ren. "Aye! Ye pa brought him!" A point as Nate doesn't let that sidehug fall.

Niyati isn't going to smirk. NOT EVEN A LITTLE. Ok. Maybe a little but that doesn't keep her from cheering at the next knots to be handed out. In fact, Kaiyth seems to have caught the excitement of the others and gives a muted sound of joy herself. L'denn's question is met with a nod and she nods toward her parents standing out quite well against the backdrop of the usual crowd. "They have to go as soon as we're done here, but he did say he wouldn't miss it. I think he's trying to convince himself I'll just be a Weaver with a better delivery time."

"You're welcome," K'ane responds to L'denn with one last flashed grin. He moves down the line, and there is a momentary kerFLUFFLE as Ko'rei straight up passes out when the weyrlingmaster gets to him. "OH FOR TH' LOVE OF FARANTH," can be heard (loudly) when Meichiioth bounds in with her boundless enthusiasm to lick her lifemate in the face. But hey, it works: soon enough the poor lad is back on his feet and knotted. There may be a hint of laughter in K'ane's voice as he calls the pair's name. He moves down the line, walking past Prymelia like she ISN'T EVEN THERE to knot the person just past her. Maybe a certain redhead didn't make it after all. How embarassing. (Maybe he's wearing those new boots POINTEDLY.)

As L'denn is acknowledged, Qu'inn gives a soft "yeah!" and a fist-pump, but his attention is diverted by the crowd. Or, perhaps, a figure in the crowd. Dark blue eyes fix on Q'fex's form and he offers his sire an oddly formal nod, one quickly dispelled by the broad grin that follows. A moment of connection, then the weyrling's attention is drawn off as more Weyrlings join the ranks of the seniors.

Parents a plenty indeed, enough so that those not there are thankfully not glaringly obvious. A swift smile chases shadows from hazel regards and greets Niyati's observation and Prymelia tracks her fellow greenrider's gaze to pick out those in the crowd cheering for her. "Well, you'll have quicker access to the Weaver Hall now, that's for sure." At Ko'rei's unfortunate sloppy greeting from his lifemate, she isn't quite able to smother the snicker that lift sup. However, when K'ane goes right on passed her, whatever humor had shown itself is swiftly stripped away. She KNEW it!! He'd finally figured out who had upgraded his boots and she was going to be held back! BALLS!

L'denn grins up and down the line, happy lots of families managed to make the trip to see the graduation. His own mother isn't here but she can't be, and it doesn't bother L'denn that she's not. He's happy!

Being that Niyati was witness to the boot upgrading, she may well worry that she'll be held back as well. Not that she has time to think of that when there are weyrlings falling over. Just as she'd been nodding at Prymelia's words the young man falls over and she's left covering her mouth (probably to leave it unclear as to whether she's gasping or laughing. Or both). "Leave it to Ko'rei to keep it interesting…" She finally manages before giving a reassuring look Prym-ward. Surely he wouldn't (would he?).

"Niyati," K'ane booms as he comes to the end of the line and the littlest green of the clutch. He glances back at Kaiyth, crooks a smile, and then glances down to the once-weaver, "… of green Kaiyth!" He pins the knot upon her shoulder. It's a little different than the others, but you'd have to look to figure it out, right? Maybe that's the reason he steps close and murmurs something to her. Then he's stepping back, grinning, only to turn around and … walk back to where the other weyrlingmasters are, around a long line of tables, whatever lies upon them covered by obscuring sheets.

You overhear K'ane mutter, "To you … … … … … knotting Prymelia … … … wingleader. … …" to Niyati.

N'tael rocks on his heels, leaning forward in the line slightly to see K'ane's progression. Poor Ko'rei. H'es not TOO worried that Prymelia isn't going to graduate… but why isn't she getting a new pretty? An elbow to L'denn's side again, "What'cha think?

Niyati goes a bit wide eyed at the knot on her shoulder and then takes the wingsecond's knot in her hands in a way that hides all but the fact that it's a knot. Once she's gotten herself under control- which takes several seconds- she nods at K'ane. "Thank you!" Carefully, she pins the knot upon Prymelia's shoulder without trying to hide her excited smile. It's really all she can do not to squeal once it's affixed. "Congratulations, wingsecond!" Before she can say anything more, Kaiyth finally gives voice to a bugle that is louder than it really should be given her size.

Suwert arrives, ignoring the weather, which wasn't that bad from his point of view. He smiles as he sees what is going on and stands back to watch.

L'denn whistles as Niyati gets /that/ knot, and grins at N'tael. "'bout what? That?" He nods to Niyati. "I'm happy with that! Real happy! You?"

The only visible sign that Prymelia is in any way affected by being so obviously overlooked, comes in the slight paling of her usual skin tone so that freckles are starker. Oh. And maybe the daggers she's staring at K'ane's departing back. On the upside? No family to witness her humiliation. Issaeryth on the other hand is just PUT OUT!! Wings rustle with agitation at her side and eyes begin to whirl an orangey-red. That is until Niyati is suddenly there in front of her. Yanked back from wherever her mind had gone, the redhead blinks, turns her head to peer at the knot on her shoulder and then the one on her fellow greenrider's. "Sonoffawherriesarse!!" Prymelia growls under her breath for the awful prank pulled on her. Not that she hadn't richly deserved it. And then, a grin cracks free and she salutes Niyati. "Wingleader."

"Whoho!" N'tael's cheer rings out as Niyati gets the big knot and Prymelia the just-a-little-smaller one! Whatever worries or concerns involved on the others parts are not here for the young bronzer's.

L'denn continues to grin, applauding for their Wingleader and Wingsecond. Good choices!

"Weyrlings!" K'ane barks, his hijinx done: "Senior weyrlings," he amends himself. "You are one step closer to becoming full riders, this day. Traditionally, you would receive something appropriately functional today, as a gift, from your weyrlingstaff." He turns to smirk at one assistant weyrlingmaster in particular, then gestures. The sheets are pulled off the tables, revealing … picnic baskets? "I'm not necessarily traditional." And the sun rises in the east. "I think today should be a day to enjoy life, to appreciate… certain restrictions lifted. Look ye then for a basket ribboned with the color of your lifemate's hide, an' take yourself down to the beach! Bonfires await for your pleasure." He gives a little bow at the end, and then leads everyone in a solid round of applause for Southern's new senior weyrlings.

You overhear L'denn mutter, "… … … … a … of sex … and telling … … go get … … … … … Isn't sand … bad … in…places?" to N'tael.

"I dunno, I ain't ne'er had sex afore- 's on 'e t'do-list." N'tael's much to excited, so his reply isn't nearly as quiet as L'den's whisper. "Come on!" Linking arms with his best friend N'tael's going to follow that command to go get a basket.

L'denn shakes his head. "Me neither," he admits. Linked arm in arm with N'tael, L'denn happily bounds off to grab a basket with blue ribbon.

You overhear L'denn mutter, "… they got us prostitutes for our first …" to N'tael.

Suwert chuckles at a comment he hears. He can't complain about the looks of some of the folks at the weyr.

Beach

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.

Niyati is here! And so is that big old tub of ice, fruit slices, and some sort of juice that is probably a mixture of several juices. Into that is poured a bottle of something that is DEFINITELY alcohol. Once it's all mixed via shaking the tub and stirring the ice around, she settles it into a dip in the sand along with several light, wooden cups. "There! Should be enough for everyone." Once that's done, she spreads her own blanket and settles in with a cup of the mixture while giving a happy sigh.

Somewhere in the bustle N'tael has separated from L'denn to throw himself upon his father. They stand near the dock talking in low tones, Nate's basket for the moment ignored. A brightness shines in N'tael's eyes, a happiness which had been rubbed off a bit in recent weeks. Perhaps that brightness is because Tlazotezath has not followed the others to the beach, but gone to claim the high weyr that would eventually be his. (Even if they're not actually assigned yet.)

L'denn and D'ren walked down to the beach together, but then the bronzerider bid his son farewell with a hair ruffle and another congratulations. D'ren is just going to /assume/ that L'denn won't want him here for /this/ party. He leaves, and L'denn bounds over to Niyati. "What's that? That looks good!"

Niyati gestures toward the tub and grins. "It's the best beach party punch in history," she answers, then chuckles. "Well, at least in my history. It has a bit of alcohol in it." In the same way that the beach has a bit of sand in it. "So you might want to be careful, but it's certainly the occasion to give it a try." This weyrling is even going to dip her cup in for a second helping. The wine and food can wait until later. She's been DEPRIVED.

N'tael throws his arms around his father in one last fierce hug. Dorrano calls out to D'ren as N'tael skips with that basket over his shoulder over to where the party is starting up. "So, we're allowed t' be havin' all've it, aye?" Where is his cup? All he heard is fruit juice and a bit of alchohol. "Ye know, m' pa said 's alright t' be drinkin' if'n ye got somethin' to be celebratin'."

L'denn grins. "Great! I love punch!" Ooooh, alcohol? L'denn's eyes brighten as he gets himself a full cup. Careful? Pffft! "Did you make it?" He takes a biiig sip. And grins. And then coughs. "Wow, that's…it's kind of hot and sweet at the same time. I like it."

"I did. It's one of my favorites." Niyati DID relate the story of taking the bet that she could actually ride a bull. This stuff probably had a lot to do with it. "Well, we certainly do have something to celebrate! We're halfway to being full riders!" She raises her glass as she says it. "…and we no longer have to muck out our living quarters."

"Aye!" N'tael copies Niyati and isn't really being careful. He's happy damnit! The contents of his cup go right down, though this leaves N'tael to abruptly go red and begin to cough and choke at the results.

L'denn mmmmms happily. "It's really good," he praises. "We do! You're Wingleader! Ma'am," he adds with a grin and a salute.

"Oh that's so strange!" Niyati chuckles. "Let's just agree to save the salutes for when we're official. Maybe we can go about saluting Prymelia." Given the way that knot was handed over, she finds it amusing. N'tael's coughing prompts her to reach out to pat at his back to help calm the fit. "Slowly. Fortunately that's not as strong as it should be. I kept it around for customers." Weaver trade secret: People buy more when they've had alcohol.

N'tael giggles once he manages to get control of his coughing. "I want t' be talkin' Tlaz up t' 'e sky 'n see if'n 'e'll be lettin' me jump int' 'e ocean!" He dips his cup into the punch again, apparently heedless of what is in it.

L'denn takes another drink and grins at N'tael. "If he won't, Vin will! We've done it lots of times now and it's /awesome/."

Niyati goes wide eyed at N'tael's plan. "Hopefully sober," she comments before looking thoughtful. "That DOES sound like fun. Almost like cliff diving! Only so much better." Yep, she's an enabler. Sometimes. "I really must try this! I wonder if Kaiyth can be pulled away from her fascination with the river…"

"Sober? Why'd I be… /oh…./" N'tael looks down at the cup in his hands, then a grin spreads across his face. "That's what this's gonna do aye? What's it like?" Dont' answer that, he's going to get that answer soon or later anyway.

L'denn grins wide. "it's the /best/. I used to do it on Aik all the time, but now me and Vin do it. Hey, this is really, really good. Did we have food too? Or just the bits of fruit?" Nom. "I feel all relaxed."

Niyati opens her basket and pulls out some cheese, bread slices, and fruit. "That's usually the aim, at least during things like this. I get the feeling you're about to find out for yourself." She manages to stifle a laugh at L'denn's take on things. "You'll probably want to pace yourselves… Getting too drunk your first time can leave you ill for days."

"Sick?" N'tael tilts his head slightly as he lifts the cup to his lips, "ooh,, CHEESE." N'tael elbows L'denn friendly-like, and reaches for some cheese.

L'denn flops down onto Niyati's towel and grins. "Sick? Don't want to be sick…" He looks at the cup. Hmm. Maybe he /should/ pace himself. But it's so delicious. "Cheese!" YAY.

Niyati nods. "Eat a little, nurse your drink a bit, and if you lay down and the world starts spinning, put one of your feet down flat beside you." NOT that she's done this before. At least she knows how to follow her own advice. It wouldn't do for her to be hanging off her couch or digging a hole in the sand or anything.

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